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Portrait of john milton. 



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THE POETICAL WORKS 



OF 



V JOHN iVlILTON 

WITH MEMOIR, ETC. 



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FAMILY EDITION. FULLY ILLUSTRATED WITH NEW 

WOOD-ENGRAVINGS. WITH BORDER BY 

GEORGE WHARTON EDWARDS. 



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NEW YORK 

FREDERICK A. STOKES & BROTHER 

1888 



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Copyright, 1888, by 
FREDERICK A. STOKES & BROTHER. 











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CONTENTS 



PART I. 



PAGE 

Memoir v 

Paradise Lost. 

Book I I 

Book II. ... 19 

Book III 41 

Book IV. ... 57 

Book V 7S 



Paradise hosT—cotiiinued. 

Book VI. 

Book VII. . 

Book VIII. 

Book IX. . . • 

Book X. . ■ • 

Book XI. 

Book XII. 



116 
130 

144 
169 
192 
211 



PART II. 



P.-VR.-vDiSE Regained. 

Book I. .... 

Book II 

Book III 

Book IV 

Samson Agonistes 
Sonnets and Canzone. 
To the Nightingale . . ''ii 
Canzone . . . . 82 
On His being arrived to the 

Age of Twenty-three . 83 
When the Assault was in- 
tended to the City . ■ §4 
To a Virtuous Young Lady 84 
To the Lady Margaret Ley 85 
On the Detraction which 
followed upon My Writ- 
ing Certain Treatises . 85 
On the Same . . .86 
To Mr. H. Lawes, on the 

Publishing His Airs . 86 
On the Religious Memory 
of Mrs. Catherine Thom- 
son 86 

To the Lord General Fair- 
fax 87 

To the Lord General 

Cromwell . . -87 

To Sir Henry Vane the 

Younger . . . .88 
On the Late Massacre in 

Piedmont . . . .88 
On His Blindness . . 89 



PAGE 

Sonnets and Canzone— com- 
tinued. 
To Mr. Lawrence . • §9 
To Cvriac Skinner . 9° 

To the Same . . -90 
On His Deceased Wife . 9° 

Early Poems. 
On the Death of a Fair In- 
fant Dying of a Cough . 
At a Vacation Exercise in 
the College 

Odes. 
On the Morning of Christ's 
Nativitj- . . . • 
The Hvmn 

Upon the Circumcision . 
The Passion . 
On Time .... 
At a Solemn Music 
Song. On May Morning 

EPIT.A.PHS. 

An Epitaph on the Mar- 
chioness of Winchester. 

An Epitaph on the Admir- 
able Dramatic Poet W 
Shakespeare . . . 

On the University Carrier 

Another on the Same 

L' Allegro . 
IL Penseroso 



92 



97 
98 
104 
105 
106 
107 
108 



108 

no 
no 
III 

III 
115 



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CONTENTS. 




Arcades. 
Song I. " Look, nymphs, 

and shepherds look " . ii8 
Songll. "O'erthe smooth 

enamell'd green " . 120 
Song III. "Nymphs and 

Shepherds dance no 

more" . . • ■ 120 

CoMus, A Mask . . 122 
Lycidas .... 144 

Miscellaneous Poems and 
Translations. 

On the New Forcers of 
Conscience under the 
Long Parliament . . 149 
The Fifth Ode of Horace, 

Lib. I. . . . .149 
From Geoffrey of Mon- 
mouth . . . .150 
From Dante ... 150 
From Dante . . .151 
From Ariosto . 151 

From Horace . .151 

From Euripic'e -, . . 152 
From Horace . . . 152 
From Sophoclc;. . . 152 
From Seneca . . . 152 
From Homer . . 152 

SALMS. 

Psalm I. Done into Verse, 

1653 153 

Psalm II. Aug. 8, 1653, 

Terzette .... 153 
Psalm III. Aug. 9, 1653, 
' ' When He Fled from 

Absalom " . . . 154 

Psalm IV. Aug. 10, 1653, 154 

Psalm V. Aug. 12, 1653 . 155 

Psalm VI. Aug. 13, 1653, 156 
Psalm VII. Aug. 14, 1653, 
'Upon the Words of 
Chush the Benjamite 

Against Him" . . 157 

Psalm VIII. Aug. 14, 1653 158 

Psalm LXXX. April, 1648 159 

Psalm LXXXI. . . 161 

Psalm LXXXII. . . 163 

Psalm LXXXIII. . . 163 

Psalm LXXXIV. . . 165 

Psalm LXXXV. . . 166 

Psalm LXXXVI. . . 168 

Psalm LXXXVJI. . 169 
Psalm LXXXVIII. . .170 
A Paraphrase on Psalm 

CXIV 172 

Psalm CXXXVI. . . 172 

JOHANNIS MiLTONI LONDI- 

NENSIS POEMATA . . 175 

Ode 176 



JOANNI MiLTONI LONDI- 
NENSI. — KLEGIARUM 

Liber . . . .178 

Fleg. I. A d Carolum. Deo- 
datum, 1627 . . . 179 

Eleg. II. Anno .^tatis 17. 
In O b i t u m Prseconis 
Academic!, Cantabri- 
giensis .... 181 

Eleg. HI. Anno .^tatis 
17. In Obituiii Prsesulis 
Wintoniensis . . . 182 

Eleg. IV. Anno .^tatis iS. 
Ad Thomam Junium 
prceceptorem suum, 
apud mercatores Angli- 
cos HamburgtC agentes, 
Pastoris munere fun- 
genlem .... 183 

Eleg. V. Anno .^Jtatis 20. 
In Adventum Veris . 186 

Eleg. VI. Ad Carolum 
Deodatum ruri commo- 
rantem .... 189 

Eleg. VII. Anno^tatisig 191 

EPIGR.A.MMATUM LiBER. 

In Proditionem Bombardi- 

cam 194 

In E'.andem . . . 194 

In Eandein . . . 195 

111 Inventorem Bombards 195 
Ad Leonora 111 Romse 

Canentem . . . 195 
Ad Eandem . . .196 

111 Salmasii Hundredam 196 

In Salmasium . . . 196 
Apologus de Rustic© et 

Herb . . . .196 

Ad Christinam Suecorum 
R e g i n a m , Nomine 

Cromwell . . . 197 

Syl VARUM Liber. 
In Obitum Procaiicellarii, 

Medici. Anno .^tatis 17 198 
In Quintum Novembris. 

Aniio^tatisi7 . . 199 
In Obitum PrEesulisElien- 

sis. Anno Avtatis 17 . 204 
Nat u ram Non Pati 

Senium . . . 205 

De Idea Platonica Que- 

madmodum Ai-istoteles 

Intellexit . . .207 

Ad Patrem . . . .208 
AdSalsillum, Poetam Ko- 

manum, ..^grotantem . 210 
Mansus .... 212 
Epitaphium Damonis . 214 
Ad Joaiinem Rousium 

O.xoniensis Academ^ise 

Bibliothecariuin . . 219 



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prefatory /iDeinoir ot /iDiltou. 



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■^■58. 




The great epic Poet of England was born at a period of change 
and political agitation, which gave a variety of incident to his life 
not often found in those of students and writers. 

John Milton was born December gth, i6oS, between six and seven 
in the morning, at the " Spread Eagle," in Bread Street, London— 
not a tavern, as our non-antiquanan readers might suppose, but his 
father's own house, distinguished by the sign of his armorial bear- 
ings, as were the houses of even the nobility at that period, when 
dwellings were not numbered. 

Milton was the sonof John Milton, a gentleman by descent, who.se 
ancestors had formerly possessed Milton, near Thame in Oxford- 
shire • but this property they had forfeited during the Wars of the 
Koses, and the family had ceased to be Milton " of that ilk " for more 
than a hundred years. r ., r ^ ^ 

Milton's grandfather (also a John Milton), keeper of the forest ot 
Shptover was a bigoted Papist. He sent his son John to Christ 
Church Oxford, for education, but the youth there imbibed the 
principles of the Reformation, and was consequently disinherited 
by his father. .. . , j „ 

Compelled to work for his living, John Milton adopted the pro- 
fession of a Scrivener, which he practised at the " Spread Eagle, " in 
Bread Street. He was a man of great ability, a classical scholar, and 
a good musician, and highly respected in his profession. He marned 
Sarah Caston, the daughter of a Welsh gentleman. On December 
9th, 1608, she became, as we have said, the mother of a son who was 
destined to immortalize the name of his parents 

We will here let Milton speak ofhis own childhood:—" My father, 
he says in his "Second Defence," "destined me from my infancy 
to the study of polite literature, which I embraced with such avidity, 
that from the age of twelve, I hardly ever retired from my books be- 
fore midnight. This proved the first source of injury to m>; eyes, 
whose natural weakness was attended with frequent pains in the 
head ■ but as all these disadvantages could not repress my ardour lor 
learning, my father took care to have me instructed by various pre- 
ceptors, both at home and at school." ■ ■. J u- 

The precocious genius of the boy might well have incited nis 
father to give him every advantage ; Aubrey, who hved near the 
time of Milton, tells us that he wrote poetry at ten years oid, and a 
beautiful portrait by Jansen, of the child at that age, exists to attest 
the paternal pride in him. 

The tutor whom Mr. Milton engaged for his wondrous son was 
the Rev. Thomas Young of Essex, for whom his pupil formed a 
sincere attachment. In 1623, when the lad was fifteen. Young quitted 
his native land on account of religious persecution, leaving a lively 
and tender remembrance of him in the mind of his pupil. Milton 
was then sent to St. Paul's School, where he worked hard under 
Alexander Gill for a twelvemonth. At this time he translated the 



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MEMOIR OF MIL TON, 



114th and 136th rsahns. The following year, 1624, he was admitted 
a pensioner of Christ s College, Cambridge. During his residence 
there he composed most of his Latin poems, of which Dr. Johnson 
.says, "I once heard Mr. Hampton the translator of Polybius, say 
that Milton was the first Englishman who, after the revival of 
letters, wrote Latin verses with cla.ssical elegance " 

While at Cambridge he wrote his Elegy, "Ad Thomam Junium 
praeceptorem suutn, apud mercatores Anglicos Hamburgse ageiites, 
Pastons munere fungenteni." (See page 183.) 

Young returned to England, thus fulfilling the young poet's 
earnestly expres.sed wishes, in 162S, and was appointed to the Master- 
ship of Jesus College, Cambridge, 111 1644. Afterwards he became 
Vicar of Stow Market for thirty years 

At Cambridge, Milton lormed a friendship for Edward King, 
whose death he laments in "Lycidas." Another early and dearly- 
loved friend of his youth was Charles Diodati, the son of an Italian 
physician who had settled in England, and practised his profession 
there with great success Charles Diodati's uncle, Giovanni (John) 
Diodati, was the translator of the Bible into Italian ; the family had 
adopted the principles of the Reformed faith, and Giovanni was a 
professor of theology at Geneva. 

Milton was remarkable in his youth for his great personal beauty, 
which obtained him the name of the " Lady " of his college He 
was not tall, but graceful in person, and like Tasso — " He of the 
sword and pen " — he was a skilful swordsman and fond of the exer- 
cise. His long and light-brown hair was parted on his brow and fell 
to his shoulders, his eyes were dark grey, his complexion fair and 
delicate In after-times, when time and sorrow were creeping on 
him, he still looked ten years younger than he was ; and his eyesdid 
not betray by their appearance the sad secret of their blindness. 
"His harmonical and ingenuous soul," saj'S Aubrey, "dwelt in a 
beautiful and well-proportioned body." 

He passed seven years at Cambridge, with the exception of a brief 
term of absence, when, for some slight fault, he is said to have been 
rusticated, and took his degree of B.A. in 1628, and M.A. in 1632. He 
had designed, when he first went to Cambridge, to enter holy orders, 
but could not bring himself to sign the Articles of the Church or 
submit to its discipline. He determined, therefore, to return to his 
home, and lead the life of a student. 

His father had, by this time, made a competence, retired from 
business, and taken a house at Hoxton, in Buckinghamshire. 
Thither Milton repaired from Cambridge, his indulgent parent being 
ever ready to yield to his wishes. 

During his residence at the University he had written all the 
earlier poems, amongst them the magnificent " Hymn to the Nativ- 
ity," but it had not yet won him fame, or even general notice. 

In the lovely seclusion of his country home he read, it is said, all 
the Greek and Latin authors, and also wrote some of his most charm- 
ing poems. He was, like his father, an accomplished musician, and 
counted amongst his friends the great lutanist of the time, Henry 
Lawes who taught music in the family of the Earl of Bridgewater. 
In the year 1634, Lord Bridgewater was President of Wales, and held 
his court at Ludlow Castle, in Shropshire. On a journey thither to 
join their father, his two sons, Lord Brackley, and Mr. Egertoii and 
his daughter. Lady Alice Egerton, were benighted in Haywood 
Forest, in Herefordshire, and the young lady for a short time was 
lost. At Lawes's request, Milton commemorated the incident in the 
exquisite "Mask of Comus," which was "presented" before the 
Earl at Ludlow, his children and Lawes being the chief actors. (See 
heading to " Comus," at page 122.) We cannot refrain from addino^, 
that the " Lady " afterwards married the Earl of Carbury, and at his 
seat, " Golden Grove," in Carmarthenshire, sheltered and protected 
Milton's great contemporary, Jeremy Taylor, during the usurpation 
of Cromwell. The eloquent divine preached her funeral sermon, in 
which her character is admirably drawn. Her sister. Lady Mary, 
was married to the celebrated Lord Herbert of Cherbury. 







; i;!l 



tii^ 



■^^^ 



MEMOIR OF MIL TON. vii 

The " Comus " had been preceded by the " Arcades," which the 
youthful poet wrote for the family of his fair neighbour the Dowager 
Countess of Derby, who lived near Uxbridge, and at whose house he 
frequently visited. Here, probably, also he had made the acquaint- 
ance of the Bridgewater family for Lord Bridgewater had married a 
daughter of Lady Derby's. 

This lady was a very accomplished woman,andof km to Spenser, 
the poet. 

During his five years' residence in his father's house, Milton oc- 
casionally visited London, to buy books, enjoy the society of his 
friends, and to visit the theatres, in which he greatly delighted at 
this period of his life— that brilliant and gifted youth which we so 
reluctantly quit for his harder and sterner manhood. 

In 1637 his friend Edward King was lost in the Irish vSea, and 
Milton honoured his memory by writing " Lycidas," as a monody on 
his death. 

It is not possible to fix the date of the composition of the Alle- 
gro " or the " Penseroso," but there is everj' reason to believe that 
those enchanting pictures of rural life, of mirth and melancholy, 
were written at Hoxton. 

He was beginning to grow wearj^of the country, and had thoughts 
of taking chambers in one of the Inns of Court, when his mother 
died ; and his father shortly afterwards was persuaded to let him 
travel on the Continent. Before his departure he received from the 
celebrated Sir Henry Wotton the wise instruction to keep " i pensieri 
stretti ed il viso sciolto," i.e., " close thoughts and a frank counte- 
nance." . 

In 1638 he quitted England, and went first to Pans. Here Lord 
Scudamore, the English Ambassador, gave him an introduction to 
Grotius, the learned ambassador of the singular and also) learned 
Christina, Queen of Sweden. From Paris, after a short stay, Milton 
proceeded to Italy, then the classic land of Europe, to which his 
thoughts and affections had continually travelled. There Tasso had 
quite recently charmed the world with his "GerusalemmeLiberata; " 
Ariosto was still a modern poet, and the renown of DaiUe and 
Petrarch, now two centuries old, was at its height. In the recent 
reigns of Elizabeth and James, the intercourse between Italy and 
England had been frequent. " To have swum in a gondola ' ' was. as 
Shakespeare tells us, the boast of travelled youths. The fame of 
the arts and science of " le belle contade" was world-spread. No 
marvel that Milton eagerly mastered the language and hurried to its 
shores. 

The Italians were deeply interested in all literature, and far better 
able to appreciate the gifted Englishman than the generality of his 
uncultivated countrymen; — amongst whom, as Johnson says, with 
respect to the sale of "Paradise Lost," "to read was not then a 
general amusement ; neither traders, nor often gentlemen, thought 
themselves disgraced by ignorance : the women had not then aspired 
to literature .... and of that middle race of students, who read for 
pleasure or accomplishment, the numberwas comparatively small." 
To pass from the England of 1638 to the Italy of that period, must 
have been like going from darkness to light. 

Milton went from Nice to Genoa, thence to Leghorn and Pisa, and 
proceeded to Florence, where he remained two months. Sir Henry 
Wotton (whose heart had been won by the " Comus") had given the 
poet introductory letters to the chief literary men of the city, and 
Milton met with a most enthusiastic reception. 

He formed friendships with the celebrated Carlo Dati, Frescobaldi, 
and Antonio Malatesta, and during his residence there he visited the 
recently liberated prisoner of the inquisition — Galileo. Itis thought 
probable that Grotius had urged Milton to see the great astrono- 
mer, for in the very month in which the young English poet was 
presented to him, he wrote thus to Vossius of Galileo : ' This old 
man, to whom the universe is so largely indebted, worn out with 
maladies, and still more with anguish of mind, gives uslittle reasons 
to hope that his life can be long. Common prudence, therefore, 





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iiiii II 

liiiil'li; 



MEMOIR OF MILTON. 



suggests to us to make the most of the time while we can yet avail 
ourselves of such an instructor." 

Milton next paid a short visit to Sienna, then proceeded to Rome, 
where he remained two months. Holstenius, a savant of Kuro- 
pean renown (who had known Milton when he, Holstenius, was at 
Oxford) was then Librarian to the Vatican. He introduced the 
young Englishman to Cardinal Barberini afterwards Pope Urban 
VIII., who invited him to a concert, received him at the doors, and 
presented hira, in the most flattering terms, to the brilliant assembly. 
Amongst them Milton's eyes lighted on a woman, beautiful, with 
the rare and intellectual loveliness of a Grecian muse ; she was 
Leonora Baroni — the first singer in the world. Her mother, as 
beautiful and nearly as fine a singer as herself, sat near her with 
her lute. The rapture of the poet may be imagined when he heard 
the fair wonder sing to her mother's accompaniment. He cele- 
brated her genius in three fine Latin epigrams. iSee page 195). 
Whetner she was the " Donna " of his Italian sonnets we cannot 
tell ; her name recalled the Leonora of Tasso ; her talent was just 
that which he best loved. 

From Rome Milton travelled to Naples, in company withahermit, 
who must have been able to appreciate the poet, as, on their ar- 
rival at Naples, he introduced him to Manso, Marquis of Villa, the 
friend, patron, and biographer of Tasso. Manso was delighted with 
his new acquaintance, and addressed to him a distich, with the 
same play on words with which Gregory inaugurated his plan for 
the conversion of Britain. 

Ut mens, forma decor, facies, mos, si pietas sis 
Non Anglus, verum hercle Angelus ipse fores. 

Thus translated by Cowper : — 
The Neapolitan, John Baptist Manso, Marquis of Villa, to the 
Englishman, 

John Milton. 

What features, form, mien, manners, with a mind, 
Oh, how intelligent ! and how refined ! 
Were but thy piety from fault as free, 
Thou wouldst no angle, but an angel be. 

Milton, in return, addressed to the Marquis a Latin poem (see 
page 212), which must have greatly impressed the learned Italians. 

Milton now purposed visiting Sicily and Greece, but letters from 
home told him how England was shaken to its centre by the differ- 
ences between the King, Charles I., and his Parliament, and the 
young man thought that duty and patriotism alike forbade his 
absence from his native land in her hour of sore trial. So he bent 
his steps homeward, not, however, hurrying his journey. Again he 
visited Rome, though warned of plots formed by the Jesuits against 
him on account of the openness with which he had di-scussed relig- 
ious topics, and although at Naples, Manso had told him that his 
religion alone precluded him from great distinction, he felt sure 
that his nationality protected him from personal danger, and re- 
mained again two months in Rome. From thence he went to 
Florence, to Lucca, and to Venice. From the latter city he sent his 
father a collection of music and books, and proceeded to Geneva, 
then the seat of Puritanism, and the spot from whence republican 
doctrines were promulgated over Europe. Here he found a friend 
in Charles Diodati's uncle, John (or Giovanni), and in Frederick 
Spanheim, who was also a learned Professor of Divinity. From 
Geneva he returned to France, and thence home, having been ab- 
sent from England a year and three months. 

The news of the death of his dear friend, Charles Diodati, met 
hira on his return : he commemorated the loss in the " Epitaphium 
Damonis." iSee page 215.) 

The youth of Milton closes with this grief. He was now a man 
of thirty-one years of age, and it behoved him to take up the work 
of life in earnest. He had drawn largely on the means of his gener- 



^J^Jji& 









MEMOIR OF MIL TON. 



ous father, and he was not the only child— he had a brother Christo- 
pher, a lawyer ; his sister Auue was well married before he went to 
Cambridge. (See his Elegy on the death of her infant, at page 92 
She had recently been widowed and married a second time. Milton 
at once decided on his own conrse. He resolved to take pupils, and 
the first he received were his sister's sons by her first husband- 
John and Edward Philips. He took, a lodging at the house of a 
tailor named Russell, in St. Bride s Churchyard, and began the 
prosaic task of teaching ; but the locality was unendurable to him, 
and he removed into a pleasant house, standing in a garden, at the 
end of a passage leading out of Aldersgate Street. Here he received 
more private pupils to board and teach. 

And now we come to the reverse of the brilliant picture of his 
youth. For twenty years the poet sang no more. All that long 
iperiod was occupied in school duties, political controversy, and 
household troubles. In considering this period of Milton's life, 
when he used his great abilities ( obscured in prose ) against his 
Sovereign and the National Church, we must pause for a moment 
to consider the age in which he had been born and brought up. 

When his infant eyes unclosed in Bread Street, James I. had 
been five years King of Britain. The glorious reign of Elizabeth, 
with its host of great Statesmen, Warriors, Poets, and Discoverers, 
was succeeded by that of a contemptible and pedantic Sovereign, 
whose favouritism led to crimes of the darkest dye. Our readers will 
find in the vivid pages of Mr. Hepworth Dixon's "Her Majesty's 
Tower" ^vols. II and III.), a picture of corruption disgraceful to 
any country. The murder of Sir Thomas Overbury must have been 
the talk of Milton's nursery. He must have heard continually the 
extravagances and wickedness of the favourite Villiers, the theme 
of animadversion ; the death of Sir Walter Raleigh must have 
been to him a boyish horror also ; all England lamented that 
murder ; and the persecution of his tutor, and the bigotry of his 
grandfather, which had robbed him of a fair heritage, must have 
all conspired to sway him towardsthe side of the Puritans. 

True, his " gentle " instincts, his fine taste and early associations, 
and the better character of Charles I., for a time held the balance, 
but now he had to choose his side : no one at that time could remain 
neutral, and he threw in liis lot with the Parliament. 

In 1641, he published a " Treatise of Reformation," in two books, 
against the established Church, being anxious to help the Puritans, 
who were, he said, " inferior to the prelates in learning" 

Hall, the Bishop of Norwich (with whose quaint Meditations our 
readers are probably acquainted), had published a " Humble Remon- 
strance in defence of Episcopacy, " to which five ministers, the 
initial letters of whose names made the celebrated word Smec- 
tymnuus, replied. "Of this answer a confutation was attempted,'" 
says Johnson, " by the learned Usher." To this confutation Milton 
(seeing that the Archbishop had the best of the argument) replied. 

His next work was " The Reason of Church Government urged 
against Prelacy.'' 

"In this book," says Johnson, "he discovers, not with ostentatious 
exultation, but with calm confidence, his high opinion of his own 
powers ; and promises to undertake something, he yet knows not 
what, that may be of use and honour to his country.'' "This," 
says he (Milton), "is not to be obtained but by devout praj'er to 
that Eternal Spirit that can enrich with all utterance and knowledge, 
and sends out his Seraphim with the hallowed fire of his altar to 
touch and purify the lips of whom he pleases. To this must be 
added industrious and select reading, steady observation, and in- 
sight into all seemly arts and affairs ; till which in some measure be 
compassed, I refuse not to sustain this expectation." 

'■ From a promise like this, at once fervid, pious, and rational," 
says Johnson, " might be expected the ' Paradise Lost.' " 

Milton's controversial writings did not interrupt his school duties. 
He did everything diligently and with earnestness. His youth had 
been pure and moral ; his manhood was almost ascetic ; he lived 





MEMOIR OF MILTON. 






sparingly, drank water, and set his pupils an example of hard 
study. Now and then he took a day's recreation with some gay 
friends of Graj'S Inn, and displayed his beautiful and well-dresseJ 
person on the fashionable promenades of Gray's Inn Gardens and 
Cheyne Walk, Chelsea. 

After Reading was taken by the King's forces, Milton's beloved 
father came to live with him, and in 1643, at Whitsuntide, he 
brought home a fair young bride, whom he had wooed and won 
from the adverse party of the Cavaliers. 

Mary Powel was the daughter of a country gentleman, a justice 
of the peace for Oxfordshire, and had been used, as Philips, her 
husband's nephew, tells us, "'to a great house, much company," and 
the fun and joviality of the ranting Royalists. She was beautiful, 
but seems to have been a spoilt child, and not to have possessed the 
intellect her husband needed in a companion ; — this is inferred from 
his own words when he speaks of a " mute and spiritless mate." 

It is only just, also, to give a glance at Mary I'ov.'ers side of the 
question. She found herself suddenly transplanted from a lively 
and liberal home to a house where profound stillness reigned, save 
when it was broken by the crying of punished school-boys. No 
visitors came to the house ; if they came, they were of the solemn 
Puritans, whom she had been brought up to laugh at as rogues and 
hypocrites. Her gay Cavalier songs were exchanged for solemn 
hymns; her feasting for hard fare ; her husband, occupied by his 
pupils and his controversy, could have given her but a small portion 
of his time ; there was no sympathy round her, — in her passionate 
loyalty, her country tastes and habits. Her parents asked if she 
might spend part of the summer with them, and her husband assent- 
ing, she left him. He pursued his studies, occasionally visiting the 
accomplished l,ady Margaret Leigh, but at Michaelmas he wrote to 
Mary to summon her home. He received no answer ; he wrote 
again and again with the same result. At last, knowing how un- 
certain was the arrival of letters in the now distracted country, he 
dispatched a messenger for Mistress Milton. The man was sent 
back with contempt. Milton, excessively angry, resolved to divorce 
his disobedient wife, and published, as a preliminary justification of 
his conduct, a treatise on " The Doctrine and Di.scipline of Divorce," 
which was followed by " The Judgment of Martin Bucer concerning 
Divorce," and his " Tetrachordon." 

The clergy, then holding their famous assembly at Westminster, 
were greatly scandalized by these productions, and had the writer 
brought before the House of lyords. But that House had matter of 
more import to engageit thanthedreams(asthey doubtless thought) 
of a visionary Puritan, and the case was dismissed. But Milton 
never forgave his former friends, the Presbyterians, for their share 
in this prosecution. He proceeded to put his theory in practice by 
wooing Miss Davis, the daughter of Dr. Davis, who however, had 
scruples on the legality andmorality of such a marriage. Whilst she 
still hesitated, a circurnstance decided the doubt for her. As Milton 
was one day at the house of a relative of the name of Blackborough, 
in St. Martin's Lane, his wife rushed from an adjoining room and 
threw herself at hisfeet, imploring his forgiveness. He resisted her 
entreaties for a time, but yielded at length, and received her to his 
heart and home once more. Their reunion proved happier than 
might have been expected. Baby hands came to draw them to- 
gether, and Mary Milton lived to give birth to a third daughter, and 
then died. But long before that period the generous poet had given 
shelter in his house to all her family, when the Republican party 
had risen topower. Subsequently he arranged their affairs for them. 
The new Council of Slate, in which were Bradshaw and Sir 
Harry Vane, chose Milton as their Latin Secretary, and employed 
him to write against the celebrated book called " Icon Basilike," 
then supposed to have been written by the unhappy Charles I., and 
which was turning the hearts of the people back to him. Milton 
wrote against it the " Iconoclastes." But we must not omit to men- 
tion the much more interesting fact that in 1645 his Latin and Eng- 





MEMOIR OF MILTON. 



\ y 



.}k i 






lish poems were published. It is with regret we add that, after the 
execution of the King, Milton wrote a treatise to justify it to the 
Presbyterians, and to compose the minds of the people." He was 
right, however, in declaring that the Presbyterians had, in fact, 
brought about the King's death themselves. He was now suffering 
{To\nguUa Serena, which threatened him with loss of sight; but on 
being called on by the Parliament in 1651 to answer the celebrated 
Salmasius's " Defensio Regis," written at the request of Charles II. 
(then an exile at The Hague), he undertook the task, and pursued 
it steadily, knowing all the time that its cost would be his sight. 
But he believed it to be his duty, and from that he never flinched. 
He was rewarded for it with a present of a thousand pounds. 

Cromwell now assumed the Protectorate, but Milton, who ap- 
pears to have had at that time a sincere admiration for Oliver, 
and who must have seen that Government, in such a state of 
anarchy, could not be carried on without him, retained the I,atiu 
Secretar>'ship. 

It would be a weary task to chronicle all the controversial writ- 
ings of Milton during the ensuing years; we will rather return to 
his domestic history. Three years after the death of Mary Powel he 
married again. His second wife appears to have won his whole 
affections. Her name was Catherine Woodcock, the daughter of 
Captain Woodcock of Hackney. But their happiness continued only 
a year : she died in giving birth to a child, and Milton deplored her 
loss in a pathetic sonnet, something resembling the famous one of 
Petrarch to his dead Laura. 

Milton now set himself to three great works : preparing a Latin 
Dictionary, writing a History of England, and commencing his 
Epic. If "an author of our own day had not shown us how possible 
research and study is even to the blind, we might marvel at such 
undertakings being attempted by a sightless man, but we think of 
Prescott, and marvel no longer. 

The Dictionary — probably the most difficult undertaking for him 
— was never finished ; the History goes only to the Norman Con- 
quest ; the Epic is the immortal '' Paradise Lost." He had already 
prepared the same subject for a drama or mystery, which was to be- 
gin with Satan's address to the Sun, but his increasing Puritanism, 
and the remembrance of his having reproached the dead King, in 
the " Iconoclastes," for making a companion of the works of Shake- 
speare, probably caused him to turn the singular drama into an 
epic poem. 

The death of Oliver Cromwell led to the Restoration, and Milton, 
who had retired from the service of the Parliament on a pension for 
life, was in considerable danger from his writings against the Royal 
cause. While all England held festival on the return of her exiled 
Sovereign, the great poet was obliged to seek safety in conceal- 
ment ; and it is said that his enemies were deceived by a report of 
his death and a mock funeral. Whether there is truth in this story 
cannot now be ascertained ; biit the Act of Oblivion, passed August 
19, enabled him again to appear openly. A prosecution was com- 
menced against him for his defence of the execution of the King, but 
it fell to the ground • Charles was not vindictive, and we perhaps 
owe to his easiness of temper the greatest poem in our language. 

Milton retired to Jewin Street, near Aldersgate Street, and 
though now poor and blind, gained a third wife, who survived him — 
Elizabeth Minshul, the daughter of a Cheshire gentleman. They 
lived happily, it is believed, but Philips, who remembered Mary 
Powel, says that the step-mother "oppressed her (Mary's) children in 
Milton's lifetime, and cheated them at his death." 

In j66i, Milton published a school book, " Accidence commenced 
Grammar," to make grammar easy to children. About this time 
Elwood, the Quaker, was recommended to him as a reader ; and he 
attended the poet every afternoon, except on Sundays. Milton, who 
hated to hear I^tin read with the English accent, taught him to 
pronounce it in Italian, and his ear was so quick, that if the young 
Quaker did not understand a passage (Elwood relates this fact) 





ME3I0IR OF MIL TON. 



I'll 



Vii 'X '-^ 







Milton would find it out By the want of expression or emphasis, 
and would make him pause, that he might explain it to him. 

Milton now removed to a house in Artillery Walk, leading to 
Bunhill Fields, and set seriously to work at the " Paradise Lost," the 
subject of which he says he had been "long choosing and begun 
late." 

But though Milton had passed out of the field of politics and 
statecraft, his genius still brought him visitors of distinction, both 
from the Continent and of his own countrymen. 

Richardson describes him as sitting before his door in warm 
sultry weather, to enjoy the fresh air, dressed in a giey coat of coarse 
cloth ; and there, as well as in his own rooms, he received his 
guests. It is supposed that " Samson Agouistes " was written about 
this time. 

In 1665, the Plague broke out in London, and Elwood, who was 
living in the family of an opulent Quaker at Chalfont, in Bucks, 
advised his friend to quit the city. Milton desired him to find his 
family a refuge in his neighbourhood, and it was at the temporary 
home thus selected that he finished the " Paradise Lost." He gave 
the manuscript to Elwood to read. The young Quaker appreciated 
it, but added pleasantly, " Thou hast said much here of ' Paradi.se 
Lost,' but what hast thou to say of ' Paradise Found '? " This hint, 
Milton afterwards told his friend, gave birth to the idea of " Para- 
dise Regained." 

On his return to London, Milton sold the copyright of his great 
poem to a bookseller, called Samuel Simmons, for £5 in hand ; £5 
more when 1,300 copies were sold, and the same sum on the publi- 
cation of the second and third editions. The number of each edition 
was limited to 1,500 copies. Of this agreement Milton lived to re- 
ceive £15 ; his widow sold her claims for future editions for £8. 

But though Milton gained but little pecuniary benefit from his 
masterpiece, it won him "golden opinions " from the best writers 
of the age. — Dryden, Mar\'el, and Denham. Yet the poem was 
never thoroughly brought before the public till after the Revolution, 
when Addison, by his elegant criticism in the Spectator, discovered 
to the nation the treasure so long hidden from them ; which they 
were then far better able to value than in the troubled days when 
it first issued from the press. 

In 1671, Milton published "Samson Agonistes " and "Paradise 
Regained." He preferred the latter poem to the "Paradise Lost," 
it is said. 

We have a record of how the blind poet spent his day. He rose at 
four in summer and five in winter, and began each day by hear- 
ing a chapter in the Hebrew Bible ; the man who read, then left him 
to meditation, and returning at seven, read or wrote for him till 
twelve. He then allowed himself an hour for exercise, generally 
walking, but sometimes he had recourse to a swing. After his 
early and temperate dinner, he was wont to play for a time on the 
organ or violoncello ; he had a fine voice, and sang well. 

It is said that his domestic relations were not happy. Philips 
gives some clue to the home disturbances by his mention of the 
step-mother's oppression of his two daughters, who were employed 
to read to him in languages they did not comprehend. When, 
however, the poet discovered how great this infliction was on his 
children, he released them from their detested task, and sent them 
to learn embroidery in gold and silver, so that they should be able 
to support themselves by a trade if required to do so. The youngest, 
Deborah, spoke with great affection of him after his death. 

In July, 1674, he felt so ill that he sent for his brother Christo- 
pher, a Bencher of the Inner Temple, to explain his last wishes to 
him. 

" Brother," said he, " the portion due to me from Mr. Powel, my 
first wife's father, I leave to the unkind children I had by her. But 
I have received no part of it; and my will and meaning is that they 
shall have no other benefit of my estate than the said portion, and 
what I have besides done for them ; they having been very undutiful 





V 



3 



;X"^ 





MEMOIR OF MIL TON. 



to me. Aud all the residue of my estate I leave to the disposal of 
Elizabeth, my loving wife." Such was the brief testament of the 
great poet. He sold his books before his death, and left £1,500 to 
his widow. The daughters received from their step-mother £100 
each. 

On the 15th November, 1674, on Sunday night, quietly and silently, 
John Milton passed away from eartli. He was buried in the Church 
of St. Giles, Cripplegate, attended by a numerous concourse of 
friends. 

Of his family, Anne, the eldest daughter, who was deformed, 
married a master builder, and died in childbirth. Mary died single. 
Deborah married Abraham Clark, a weaver in Spitaliields, and died 
in August, 1727. She had seven children, but all died childless except 
Caleb and Elizabeth. The latter married Thomas Foster, a weaver 
in Spitalfields, and had seven children, who all died. Caleb went to 
India and had two sons ; it is said that the last descendant of Milton 
died a parish clerk at Calcutta, but we know of no authority for the 
assertion bej'ond an East Indian rumour. Milton's brother took the 
opposite side in the politics of the time, and when the republican 
jjarty was in the ascendant, his brother's influence enabled him to 
live quietly. He supported himself so honourably by chamber prac- 
tice, that soon after the accession of James II. he was knighted and 
made a judge, but retired shortly afterwards into private life, on ac- 
count of bad health. He was thus saved from the difficulties which 
beset the pathof conscientious judges when Jeffreys was head of the 
law. Both the nephews of Miltou became authors : one his bio- 
grapher. 

The judgment of two centuries and of all Europe has decided as 
to the merits of Milton. A word from us on the subject of his poems 
is therefore superfluous. But of his prose, few general readers know 
much. His controversial writings were chiefly in Latin, and of those 
in English many would be objectionable and tedious in the present 
day ; nevertheless, he wrote English prose with as masterly a pen 
as he wrote poetry, and when the subject was worthy of his genius, 
his st^'le was as charming as it is in the ''Allegro" or in "Comus," 
and as noble as in the " Paradise Lost." We believe we shall be sat- 
isfying a want in giving our readers a specimen of it ; and we select 
a portion of his fine pamphlet on the Liberty of the Press : 

" I deny not but that it is of the greatestconcemment in the church 
and commonwealth, to have a vigilant eye how books demean them- 
selves as well as men ; and thereafter to confine, imprison, and do 
sharpest justice on them as malefactors ; for books are not absolutely 
dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them, to be as active 
as that soul wlio.se progeny they are ; nay, they do preser\'e, as in a 
vial, the purest efficacy and extraction of that living intellect that 
bred them. I know they are as liveh', and as vigorously productive, 
as those fabulous dragon's teeth ; and being sown up and down, may 
chance to spring up armed men. And yet, on the other hand, unless 
wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as kill a good book : 
who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's image; buthe who 
destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills the image of God, as it 
were, in the eve. Many a man lives a burden to the earth ; Isut a 
good book is 'the precious life-blood of a master-spirit, embalmed 
and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life. 'Tis true no age 
can restore a life, whereof perhaps there is no great loss ; and revo- 
lutions of ages do not oft recover the loss of a rejected truth, for the 
want of which whole nations fare the worse. We should be wary, 
therefore, what persecution we raise against the living labours of 
public men how «!pill that seasoned life of man, preserved and 
stored up in Ix/oks, since we see a kind of homicide may be thus 
(.omunttcd ^onic imes a kind of martyrdom ; and if it extended to 
the whole impression, a kind of massacre, whereof the execution 
ends not in the slaxing of an elemental life, but strikes at that 
ethereal and Soft essence the breath of reason itself; slays an im- 
mortalitv rather than a lift. 




^.. 



^^:.-::: 







MEMOIR OF MIL TON. 



" Wholesome meats to a vitiated stomach differ little or nothing 
from unwholesome ; and best books to a naughty mind are not un- 
applicable to occasions of evil. Bad meats will scarce breed good 
nourishment in the healthiest concoction ; but herein the difierence 
is of bad books, that they to a discreet and judicious reader serve in 
many respects to discover, to confute, to forewarn, and to illustrate. 
.... Good and evil, we know, in the field of this world, grow up 
together almost inseparably ; and the knowledge of good is so in- 
volved and interwoven with the knowledge of evil, and in so manj' 
cunning resemblances hardly to be discerned, that those confused 
seeds which were i:uposed upon Psyche as an incessant labour to 
cull out and sort asunder, were not 'more intermixed. It was from 
out the rind of one apple tasted, that the knowledge of good and 
evil, as two twins cleaving together, leaped forth into tlie world. 
And perhaps this is that doom which Ada:n fell into of knowing 
good and evil, that is to say, of knowing good by evil. As there- 
fore the state of man now is, what wisdom can there be to choose, 
wliat continence to forbear, without the knowledge of evil? He 
that can apprehend and consider Vice, with all her baits and 
seeming pleasures, and yet abstain, and yet distinguish, and yet 
prefer that which is truly'better, he is the true war-faring Christian. 
1 cannot praise a fugitive and cloistered virtue, unexercised and 
unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees heradversary, but slinks 
out of the race where that immortal garland is to be run for, not 
without dust and heat. Assuredly we bring not innocence into the 
world, we bring impurity mvich rather; that which purifies us is 
trial, and trial is by what is contrary. That virtue, therefore, which 
is but a youngling in the contemplation of evil, and knows not the 
utmost that vice promises to her followers, and rejects it, is but a 
blank virtue, not a pure ; her whiteness is but an excreniental 
whiteness : which was the reason why our sage and serious poet, 
Spenser (whom I dare be known to think a better teacher than 
Scotus or Aquinas), describing true temperance under the person of 
Guion, brings him in withhis Palmer through the cave of Mammon 
and the bower of earthly bliss, that he might see and know, and 
yet abstain. Since, therefore, the knowledge and survej' of vice is 
m this world so necessary to the constituting of human virtue, and 
the scanning of error to the confirmation of truth, how can we 
more safely, and with less danger, scout into the regions of sin and 
falsity, than by reading all manner of tractates, and hearing all 
m.anner of reason ? .... 

" I lastly proceed, from the no good it can do, to the manifest 
hurt it causes, in being first the greatest discouragement and aLront 
that can be afforded to learning and to learned men. It was a 
complaint and lamentation of prelates, upon every least breath of 
amotion to remove pluralities, and distribute more equally church 
revenues, that then all learning would be for ever dashed and dis- 
couraged. Btit as for that opinion, I never found cause to think 
that the tenth part of learning stood or fell with the clergj' • nor 
could I ever but hold it for a sordid and unworthy speech of any 
churchman who had a competency left him. If, therefore, ye be 
loth to dishearten utterly and discontent, not the mercenary crew 
and false pretenders to learning, but the free and ingenuous sort of 
such as evidently were born to study and love learning for itself, 
not for lucre, or any other end, but the service of God and of truth, 
and perhaps that lasting fame and perpetuity of praise which God 
and good men have consented shall be the reward of those whose 
published labours advance the good of mankind ; then know, that 
so far to distrust the judgment and honesty of one who hath but a 
common repute in learning, and never yet offended, as not to count 
him fit to print his mind without a tutor and examiner, lest he 
should drop a schism, or something of corruption, is the greatest 
displeasure and indignity, to a free and knowing spirit, that can be 
put upon him. What advantage is it to be a man, over it is to be a 
Doy at school, if we have only escaped the ferula to come under the 
fescue of an imprimatur?— If serious and elaborate writings, as if 



-^L-.^. 




"lic" ^%% 





3IEM0IR OF BIILTON. 



. V, '!* 



i '^A.w^: 



■XY^ 



I ^/ 



J-1 










thej' were no more than the theme of a grammar lad under his 
pedagogue, must not be uttered without lue cursory eyes of a 
temporizing and extemporizing licenser? He who is not trusted 
with his own actions, his drift not being known to be evil, and 
standing to the hazard of law and penalty, has no great argument 
to think himself reputed in the commonwealth wherein he was 
born for other than a fool or a foreigner. When a man writes to the 
world, he summons up all his reason and deliberation to assist him ; 
he searches, meditates, is industrious, and likely consults and con- 
fers with his judicious friends ; after all which is done, he takes 
himself to be informed in what he writes, as well as any that writ 
before him ; if in this, the most consummate act of his fidelitj^ and 
ripeness, no years, no industry, no former proof of his abilities can 
bring him to that state of maturity, as not to be still mistrusted 
and suspected, unless he carry all his considerate diligence, all his 
midnight watchings, and expense of Palladian oil, to the hasty 
view of an unleisured licenser, perhaps much his younger, perhaps 
far his inferior in judgment, perhaps one who never knew the 
labour of book-writing; and if he be not repulsed, or slighted, 
must appear in print like a puny with his guardian, and his censor's 
hand on the back of his title, to be his bail and surety that he is no 
idiot or seducer ; it cannot be but a dishonour and derogation to the 
author, to the book, to the privilege and dignity of learning. .... 
And how can a man teach with authoritj-, which is the life of teach 
iiig ; how can he be a doctor in his book, as he ought to be, or else 
had better be silent, whenas all he teaches, all he delivers, is but 
under the tuition, under the correction of his patriarchal licenser, to 
blot or alter what precisely accords not with the hide-bound humour 
which he calls his judgment? When every acute reader, upon the 
first sight of a pedantic license, will be ready with these like words 
to ding the book a quoit's distance from him, I hate a pupil teacher, 
I endure not an instructor that conies to me under the worship of an 
overseeing fist 

"And lest some should persuade ye. Lords and Commons, that 
these arguments of learned men's discouragement at this your order 
are mere flourishes, and not real, I could recount what I have seen 
and heard in other countries, where this kind of inquisition tyran- 
nizes ; when I have sat among their learned men (for that honour I 
had), and been counted happy to be born in such a place of philo- 
sophic freedom, as they supposed England was, while themselves 
did nothing but bemoan the servile condition into which learning 
amongst them was brought ; that this was it which had damped the 
glory of Italian wits ; that nothing had been there written now these 
many years but flatters- and fustian. There it was that I found and 
visited" the famous Galileo, grown old, a prisoner to the inquisition, 
for thinking in astronomy otherwise than the Franciscan and Dom- 
inican licensers thought. And though I knew that England then 
was groaning loudest under the prelatical yoke, nevertheless I took 
it as a pledge of future happiness that othernatlona were so per- 
suaded of her liberty. Yet it was beyond my hope that those 
worthies were then b'reathing in her air, who should never be for- 
gotten by any revolution of time that this world hath to finish. 

" Lords and Commons of England! consider what patiou it is 
whereof je are, and whereof j'e are the governors, a nation not slow 
and dull," but of a quick, ingenious, and piercing spirit ; acute to in- 
vent, subtile and sinewy to "discourse, not beneath the reach of any 
point that human capacitv can soar to. . . . 

" Jlethinks I see in myminda noble and puissant nation rousing 
herself like a strong man after sleep, and shaking her invincible 
locks; methinks I see her as an eagle mewing her mighty youth, 
and kindling her undazzled ej-es at the full mid-day beam; purging 
audunscalingherlong-abusedsightat the fountain itself of heavenly 
radiance; while the whole noise of timorous and flocking birds, with 
those also that love the twilight, flutter about, amazed at what s!;e 
means. .... 

"Though all the winds of doctrine were let loose to play upon the 




;^: 




MEMOIR OF MILTON. 








earth, so Truth be in the field, -vve clo injuriously, by licensing and 
prohibiting, to misdoubt her strength. Let her and falsehood 
grapple ; who ever knew Truth put to the worse in a free and open 
encounter? Her confuting is the best and surest suppressing. He 
who hears what praying there is for light and clear knowledge to be 
sent down among us would think of other matters to be constituted 
beyond the discipline of Geneva, framed and fabricked already to our 
hands. Yet when the new light which we beg for shines in upon us, 
there be who envy and oppose, if it comes not first in at their case- 
ments. What a collusion is this, when as we are exhorted by the 
wise man to use diligence, ' to seek for wisdom as for hidden treas- 
ures,' early and late, that another order shall enjoin us to know 
nothing but by statute ! When a man hath been labouring the 
hardest labourin the deep mines of knowledge, hath furnished out 
his findings in all their equipage, drawn forth his rea.sons, as it were 
a battle ranged, scattered and defeated all objections in his way, calls 
out his adversary into the plain, offers him the advantage of wind 
and sun, if he please, only that he may try thematterby dint of argu- 
ment; for his opponents then to skulk, to lay ambushnieiits, to keep 
a narrow bridge of licensing where the challenger should pass, though 
it be valour enough in soldiership, is but weakness and cowardice in 
the wars of Truth. For who knows not that Truth is strong, next to 
the Almighty? She needsno policies, nor stratagems, nor licensings, 
to make her victorious ; those are the shifts and the defences that 
error used again.st her power ; give her but room, and do not bind 
her when she sleeps." 

This appeal of Milton was unsuccessful, and it was not till 1694 
that England was set free from the censors of the press. 

Milton received from Dryden an euloginm, so well known that we 
forbear to repeat it. Other poets have re-echoed the strain ; and 
now, at the close of two hundred and sixty-four years, he occupies 
his niche of fame beside Shakespeare and the great poets of antiquity ; 
his faults, his mistakes, and his controversial writings buried in a 
merciful oblivion, while the good he did 

"Lives after him," 

rejoicing, for all times, the nation which holds as one of its titles to 
honour the name of John Milton. 




w 







Iparabise Xo6t 



THE verse; of " PARADISE LOST.' 



"The measure is English Heroic Verse without Rime, as that of 
Homer in Greek, and of Virgil in Latin ; Rime being no necessary 
Adjunct or true Ornament of Poem or good Verse, in longer Works 
especially, but the Invention of a barbarous Age, to set off wretched 
matter and lame Meeter ; grac't indeed since by the use of some 
famous modern Poets, carried away by Custom, but much to thir 
own vexation, hindrance, and constraint, to express many things 
otherwise, and for the most part worse, then else they would have 
exprest them. Not without cause, therefore, some both Italian and 
Spanish Poets of prime note, have rejected Rime both in longer 
and shorter Works, as have also, long since, our best English 
Tragedies, as a thing of itself, to all judicious eares, triveal and of no 
true musical delight ; which consists only in apt Numbers, fit 
quantity of Syllables, and the sense variously drawn out from one 
verse into another, not in the jingling sound of like endings, a fault 
avoyded by the learned Ancients both in Poetry and all good Oratory. 
This neglect then of Rime, so little is to be taken for a defect, 
though it may seem so perhaps to vulgar readers, that it rather 
is to be esteeni'd an example set, the first in English, of ancient 
liberty recover'd to Heroic Poem from the troublesom and modem 
bondage of Rimeing." 

From Milton's own Edition, 1669. 

BOOK I. 

The Argument. 

_ This First Book proposes, first in brief, the whole subject, Man's 
disobedience, and the loss thereupan^f Paradise, wherein he was 
placed. Then touches the prime caus^^of his fall, the serpent, or 
rather Satan in the serpent ; who, revolting from God, and drawing 
to his side many legions of Angels, was by the command of God 
driven out of heaven with all his crew into "the great deep. Which 
action passed over, the Poem hastes into the midst of things, pre- 
senting Satan with his Angels now fallen into hell, described here, 
not in the centre, for heaven and earth maybe supposed as yet not 
made, certainly not yet accursed, but in a place of utter darkness, 
fitliest called Chaos. Here Satan with his Angels lying on the 
burning lake, thunderstruck and astonished, after a certain spr'ce 
recovers, as from confusion, calls up him who next in order and 
dignity lay by him : they confer of their miserable fall. Satan 
awakens all his legions, who lay till then in the same manner con- 
founded; they rise ; their numbers, arrav of battle, their chief leaders 
named, according to the idols known afterwards in Canaan and the 
countries adjoining. To these Satan directs his speech, comforts 



^'f 



§ 




Wi4 



a**.. 




PARADISE LOST. 



itl'f 



them with hope yet of regaining heaven, but tells them lastly 
of a new world and new kind of creature to be created, accord- 
ing to an ancient prophecy or report in heaven : for that Angels 
were long before this visible creation, was the opinion of many 
ancient Fathers. To find out the truth of this prophecy, and what 
todeterminethereon, he refers to a full council. What his associates 
thence attempt. PandKmonium, the palace of Satan, rises, suddenly 
built out of the deep : the infernal Peers there sit in council. 



'/" 



M 



*^ 



";; i Of Man's first disobedience and the fruit 
i Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste 

Brought death into the world and all our woe, 
With loss of Eden, till one greater Man 
Restore us and regain the blissful seat, 
j Sing heav'nly Muse, that on the secret top 

Of Oreb, or of Sinai, didst inspire 
iii^ That shepherd, who first taught the chosen seed, 
;i;j In the beginning how the heav'ns and earth 
' ' Rose out of Chaos ; or if Sion hill 

* : Delight thee more, and Siloa's brook that flow'd 

Fast by the oracle of God ; I thence 
Invoke thy aid to my advent' rous song, 
That with no middle flight intends to soar 
Above til' Aonian mount, while it pursues 
Things unattempted yet in prose or rhyme. 

And chiefly thou, O Spirit, that dost prefer 
Before all temples th' upright heart and pure, 
Instruct me, for thou know'st ; thou from the first 
Wast present, and with mighty wings outspread 
Dove-like sat'st brooding on the vast abyss. 
And mad'st it pregnant : what in me is dark 
Illumine, what is low raise and support ; 
That to the height of this great argument 
I may assert eternal Providence, 
And justify the ways of God to men. 

Say first, for heav'n hides nothing from thy view, 
Nor the deep tract of hell ; say first, what cause 
Moved our grand Parents in that happy state, 
Favour'd of heav'n so highly, to fall off' 
From their Creator, and transgress his will 
For one restraint, lords of the world besides? 
Who first seduced them to that foul revolt ? 
Th' infernal serpent ; he it was, whose guile, 
Stirr'd up with envy and revenge, deceived 
The mother of mankind, what time his pride 
Had cast him out from heav'n, with all his host 
Of rebel Angels, by whose aid aspiring 
To set himself in glory above his peers, 






PARADISE LOST. 



r 



•«^ 







He trusted to have equall'd the Most High, 

If he opposed ; and with ambitious aim 

Against the throne and monarchy of God 

Raised impious war in heav'n, and battle proud, 

With vain attempt. Him the almighty Power 

Hurl'd headlong flaming from th' ethereal sky, 

With hideous ruin and combustion, down 

To bottomless perdition, there to dwell 

In adamantine chains and penal fire, 

Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms. 

Nine times the space that measures day and night 

To mortal men, he with his horrid crew 

Lay vanquish' d, rolling in the fiery gulf, 

Confounded though immortal : but his doom 

Reserved him to more wrath ; for now the thought 

Both of lost happiness and lasting pain 

Torments him ; round he throws his baleful eyes, 

That witness' d huge affliction and dismay, 

Mix'd with obdurate pride and stedfast hate. 

At once, as far as angels ken, he views 

The dismal situation waste and wild ; 

A dungeon horrible, on all sides round, 

As one great furnace, flamed ; yet from those flames 

No light, but rather darkness visible 

Sers^ed only to discover sights of woe. 

Regions of sorrow, doleful shades, where peace 

And rest can never dwell, hope never comes. 

That conies to all ; but torture without end 

Still urges, and a fierv' deluge, fed 

With ever-burning sulphur unconsumed. 

Such place eternal justice had prepared 

For those rebellious ; here their prison ordain'd 

In utter darkness, and their portion set 

As far removed from God and light of heav'n, 

As from the centre thrice to th' utmost pole. 

O how unlike the place from whence they fell ! 

There the companions of his fall, o'erwhelm'd 

With floods and whirlwinds of tempestuous fire. 

He soon discerns, and welt'ring by his side 

One next himself in power, and next in crime. 

Long after known in Palestine, and named 

Beelzebub : To whom th' arch-enemy. 

And thence in heav'n call'd Satan, with bold words 

Breaking the horrid silence, thus began. 

If thou beest he — But O how fall'n ! how changed 
From him, who in the happy realms of light. 
Clothed wdth transcendent bi-ightness, didst outshine 
Myriads, though bright ! If he, whom mutualleague, 
United thoughts and counsels, equal hope 
And hazard in the glorious enterprise. 



^^^ 










^0}^^ 



PARADISE LOST. 



.^ 



^ ':,/ 



■^ 





Join'd with me once, now misery hath, join'd 

In equal ruin : into what pit thou seest 

From what height fall'n, so much the stronger proved 

He with his thunder ; and till then who knew 

The force of those dire arms ? yet not for those, 

Nor what the potent victor in his rage 

Can else inflict, do I repent, or change. 

Though changed in outward lustre, that fix'd mind 

And high disdain from sense of injured merit, 

That with the Mightiest raised me to contend, 

And to the fierce contention brought along 

Innumerable force of Spirits arm'd. 

That durst dislike his reign ; and, me preferring. 

His utmost power with adverse power opposed 

In dubious battle on the plains of heav'n. 

And shook his throne. What though the field be lost? 

All is not lost ; th' unconquerable will, 

And study of revenge, immortal hate 

And courage never to submit or yield. 

And what is else not to be overcome ; 

That glory never shall his wrath or might 

Extort from me : to bow and sue for grace 

With suppliant knee, and deify his power. 

Who from the terror of this arm so late 

Doubted his empire, that were low indeed. 

That were an ignominy and shame beneath 

This downfall ; since by fate the strength of Gods 

And this empyreal substance cannot fail ; 

Since through experience of this great event. 

In arms not worse, in foresight much advanced, 

We may with more successful hope resolve 

To wage by force or guile eternal war, 

Irreconcileable to our grand foe. 

Who now triumphs, and in th' excess of joy 

Sole reigning holds the t}'ranny of heav'n. 

So spake th' apostate Angel, though in pain, 
Vaunting aloud, but rack'd with deep despair : 
And him thus answer' d soon his bold compeer. 

O Prince, O chief of many throned Powers, 
That led th' imbattell'd Seraphim to war 
Under th}- conduct, and, in dreadful deeds 
Fearless, endanger'd heav'n's perpetual King, 
And put to proof his high supremacy ; 
Whether upheld by strength, or chance, or fate, 
Too well I see and rue the dire event. 
That with sad overthrow and foul defeat 
Hath lost lis heav'n, and all this mighty host 
In horrible destruction laid thus low. 
As far as Gods and heavenly essences 
Can perish ; for the mind and spirit remains 



:-^^: 



1 






PARADISE LOST. 




) •'',;':'|rtw««.:. 



' I 




Invincible, and Angor soon returns, 

Though all our glory extinct, and happy state 

Here swallow' d up in endless misery. 

But what if he our conqueror, whom I now 

Of force believe almighty, since no less 

Than such could have o'erpower'd such force as ours, 

Has left us this our spirit and strength entire, 

Strongly to suffer and support our pams. 

That we may so suffice his vengeful ire. 

Or do him mightier service, as his thralls 

By right of war, whate'er his business be, 

Here in the heart of hell to work in fire. 

Or do his errands in the gloomy deep : 

What can it then avail, though yet we feel 

Strength undiminish'd, or eternal being 

To undergo eternal punishment ? 

Whereto with speedy words th' Arch-fiend replied 

Fall'n Cherub, to be weak is miserable, 
Doing or suffering : but of this be sure. 
To do ought good never will be our task. 
But ever to do ill our sole delight ; 
As being the contrary to his high will, 
Whom we resist. If then his providence 
Out of our evil seek to bring forth good, 
Our labour must be to pervert that end, 
And out of good still to find means of evil ; 
Which oft-times may succeed, so as perhaps 
Shall grieve him, if I fail not, and disturb 
His inmost counsels from their destined aim. 
But see ! the angry victor hath recall'd 
His ministers of vengeance and pursuit 
Back to the gates of heav'n : the sulphurous hail 
Shot after us in storm, o'erblown hath laid 
The fiery surge, that from the precipice 
Of heav'n received us falling, and the thunder, 
Wing'd with red lightning and impetuous rage, 
Perhaps hath spent his shafts, and ceases now 
To bellow through the vast and boundless deep. 
Let us not slip th' occasion, whether scorn 
Or satiate fury yield it from our foe. 
Seest thou yon dreary plain, forlorn and wild. 
The seat of desolation, void of light. 
Save what the glimmering of these livid flames 
Casts pale and dreadful ? thither let us tend 
From off the tossing of these fiery waves. 
There rest, if any rest can harbour there, 
And, reassembling our afflicted powers, 
Consult how we may henceforth most offend 
Our enemy, our own loss how repair, 
How overcome this dire calamity. 








6 PARADISE LOST. 

What reinforcement we may gain from hope, 
If not, what resolution from despair. 

Thus Satan talking to his nearest mate, 
With head up-lift above the wave, and eyes 
That sparkling blazed ; his other parts besides 
Prone on the flood, extended long and large. 
Lay floating many a rood, in bulk f!S huge 
As whom the fables name of monstrous size, 
Titanian, or Earth-born, that warr'd on Jove, 
Briareus, or Typhon, whom the den 
By ancient Tarsus held, or that sea-beast 
Leviathan, which God of all his works 
Created hugest that swim th' ocean stream : 
Him haply slumb'ring on the Norway foam 
The pilot of some small nigh t- founder' d skifif 
Deeming some island, oft, as seamen tell. 
With fixed anchor in his scaly rind 
Moors by his side under the lee, while night 
Invests the sea, and wished morn delays : 
So stretch'd out huge in length the Arch-fiend lay, 
Chain'd on the burning lake, nor ever thence 
Had risen or heaved his head, but that the will 
And high permission of all-ruling heaven 
Left him at large to his own dark designs ; 
That with reiterated crimes he might 
Heap on himself damnation, while he sought 
Evil to others, and enraged might see 
How all his malice served but to bring forth 
Infinite goodness, grace, and mercy shown 
On man by him seduced ; but on himself 
Treble confusion, wrath, and vengeance pour'd. 
Forthwith upright he rears from off" the pool 
His mighty statixre ; on each hand the flames 
Driven backward slope their pointing spires, and roll'd 
In billows leave i' th' midst a horrid vale. 
Then with expanded wings he steers his flight 
Aloft, incumbent on the du^y air, 
That felt unusual weight, till on dry land 
He lights, if it were land that ever burn'd 
With solid, as the lake with liquid, fire ; 
And such appear'd in hue, as when the force 
Of subterranean wind transports a hill 
Torn from Pelorus, or the shatter'd side 
Of thund'ring ^tna, whose combustible 
And fuel'd entrails thence conceiving fire, 
Sublimed with mineral fury, aid the winds, 
And leave a singed bottom, all involved 
With stench and smoke : such resting found the sole 
Of unbless'd feet. Him foUow'd his next mate. 
Both glorying to have 'scaped the Stygian flood. 



'■-## 





' Foythuith i<pris:ht he rears from off the pool 
His mighty stature,"— Boo^ I., lines 221-222. 







^' 



PARADISE LOST. 7 

' As Gods, and by their own recover' d strength, 
Not by the sufferance of supernal power. 
\ ^ fj i' Is this the region, this the soil, the chme. 

Said then the lost Arch-Angel, this the seat 
That we must change for heav'n ? this mournful gloom 
For that celestial light ? be it so, since he. 
Who now is Sov'reigu, can dispose and bid 
What shall be right : farthest trom him is best. 
Whom reason hath equall'd, force hath made supreme 
Above his equals. Farewell happy fields, 
Where joy for ever dwells : hail horrors ; hail 
Infernal world ; and thou profoundest hell 
Receive thy new possessor ; one who brings 
A mind not to be changed by place or time. 
The mind is its own place, and m itself 
Can make a heav'n of hell, a hell of heav'n. 
What matter where, if I be still the same. 
And what I should be, all but less than he 
Whom thunder hath made greater ? here at least 
We shall be free ; th' Almighty hath not built 
Here for his envv, will not drive us hence : 
Here we may reign secure, and in my choice 
To reign is worth ambition, though in hell : 
Better to reign in hell, than serve in heav'n. 
But wherefore let we then our faithful friends, 
Th' associates and copartners of our loss, 
Lie thus astonish'd on th' oblivious pool. 
And call them not to share with us their part 
In this unhappy mansion ; or once more 
With rallied arms to try what may be yet 
Regain'd in heav'n, or what more lost m hell i 

So Satan spake, and him Beelzebub 
Thus answer' d : Leader of those armies bright. 
Which but th' Omnipotent none could have foil d. 
If once they hear that voice, their liveliest pledge 
Of hope in fears and dangers, heard so oft 
In worst extremes, and on the perilous edge 
Of battle when it raged, in all assaults 
Their surest signal, they will soon resume 
New courage and revive, though now they lie 
Grov'ling and prostrate on yon lake of fire, 
As we erewhile, astounded and amazed. 
No wonder, fall'n such a pernicious highth 

He scarce had ceased, when the superior fiend 
Was moving toward the shore; his ponderous shield. 
Ethereal temper, massy, large, and round, 
Behind him cast ; the broad circumference 
Hung on his shoulders like the moon, whose orb 
Through optic glass the Tuscan artist views 
At ev'ning, from the top of Fesole 






-r- 





8 PARADISE LOST. 

Or in Valdarno, to descry new lands, 

Rivers or mountains in her spotty globe. 

His spear, to equal which the tallest pine, 

Hewn on Norwegian hills to be the mast 

Of some great Ammiral, were but a wand, 

He walk'd with to support uneasy steps 

Over the burning marie, not like those steps 

On heaven's azure, and the torrid clime 

Smote on him sore besides, vaulted with fire. 

Nathless he so endured, till on the beach 

Of that inflamed sea he stood, and call'd 

His legions, Angel forms, who lay entranced, 

Thick as autumnal leaves that strow the brooks 

In Vallombrosa, where th' Etrurian shades 

High overarch 'd embov/er ; or scatter' d sedge 

Afloat, when with fierce winds Orion arm'd 

Hath vex'd the Red-sea coast, whose waves o'erthrew 

Busiris and his Memphian chivalry. 

While with perfidious hatred they pursued 

The sojourners of Goshen, who beheld 

From the safe shore their floating carcases 

And broken chariot wheels : so thick bestrewn 

Abject and lost lay these, covering the flood. 

Under amazement of their hideous change. 

He call'd so loud, that all the hollow deep 

Of hell resounded : Princes, Potentates, 

Warriors, the flow'r of heav'n, once yours, now lost, 

If such astonishment as this can seize 

Eternal spirits ; or have ye chosen this place 

After the toil of battle to repose 

Your wearied virtue, for the ease you find 

To slumber here, as in the vales of heav'n ? 

Or in this abject posture have ye sworn 

To adore the conqueror ? who now beholds 

Cherub and Seraph rolling in the flood 

With scatter' d arms and ensigns, till anon 

His swift pursuers from heav'n gates discern 

Th' advantage, and descending tread us down 

Thus drooping, or with linked thunderbolts 

Transfix us to the bottom of this gulf. 

Awake, arise, or be for ever fall'n. 

They heard, and were abash'd, and up they sprung 
Upon the wing, as when men wont to watch 
On duty, sleeping found by whom they dread, 
Rouse and bestir themselves ere well awake. 
Nor did they not perceive the evil plight 
In which thej- were, or the fierce pains not feel ; 
Yet to their General's voice they soon obey'd, 
Innumerable. As when the potent rod 
Of Amram's Son, in .Ei^-])t's e^-il dav. 




V,f 





^<3 



r>^, 




PARADISE LOST. 



\V 









■ 'm. 



iM^lJijiiifui.' 






Waved round the coast up call'd a pitchy cloud 

Of locusts, warping on the eastern wand, 

That o'er the realm of impious Pharaoh hung 

Like night, and darken'd all the land of Nile : 

So numberless were those bad angels seen 

Hovering on wing under the cope of hell, 

'Twixt upper, nether, and surrounding fires ; 

Till, as a signal given, th' uplifted spear 

Of their great Sultan waving to direct 

Their course, in even balance down they light 

On the firm brimstone, and fill all the plain ; 

A multitude like which the populous north 

Pour'd never from her frozen loins, to pass 

Rhene or the Danaw, when her barbarous sons 

Came like a deluge on the south, and spread 

Beneath Gibraltar to the Libyan sands. 

Forthwith from ev'ry squadron and each band 

The heads and leaders thither haste, where stood 

Their great Commander ; God-like shapes and forms 

Excelling human, Princely Dignities, 

And powers, that erst in heaven sat on thrones ; 

Though of their names in heavenly records now 

Be no memorial, blotted out and razed 

By their rebellion from the books of life. 

Nor had they yet among the sons of Eve 

Got them new'names ; till wand'ring o'er the earth. 

Through God's high sufferance for the trial of man. 

By falsities and lies the greatest part 

Of mankind they corrupted to forsake 

God their creator, and th' invisible 

Glory of him that made them to transform 

Oft to the image of a brute, adorn'd 

With gay religions full of pomp and gold, 

And Devils to adore for Deities : 

Then were they known to men by various names. 

And various idols through the heathen world. 

Say, Muse, their names then known, who first, who last. 
Roused from the slumber on that fiery couch 
At their great Emp'ror's call, as next in worth. 
Came singly where he stood on the bare strand. 
While the promiscuous crowd stood yet aloof? 
The chief were those, who, from the pit of hell 
Roaming to seek their prey on earth, durst fix 
Their seats long after next the seat of God, 
Their altars by his altar, Gods adored 
Among the nations round, and durst abide 
Jehovah thund'ring out of Sion, throned 
Between the Cherubim ; yea, often placed 
Within his sanctuary itself their shrines, 
Abominations ; and'with cursed things 





PARADISE LOST. 



:S. 



" '^H||"i 





His holy rites and solemn feasts profaned, 

And with their darkness durst affront his light. 

First Moloch, horrid King, besmear' d with blood 

Of human sacrifice, and parents' tears. 

Though for the noise of drums and timbrels loud 

Their children's cries unheard, that past through fire 

To his grim idol. Him the Ammonite 

Worshipp'd in Rabba and her wat'ry plain, 

In Argob, and in Basan, to the stream 

Of utmost Amon. Nor content with such 

Audacious neighbourhood, the wisest heart 

Of Solomon he led by fraud to build 

His temple right against the temple of God, 

On that opprobrious hill, and made his grove 

The pleasant valley of Hinnom, Tophet thence 

And black Gehenna call'd, the type of hell. 

Next Chemos, th' obscene dread of Moab's sons, 

From Aroer to Nebo, and the wild 

Of southmost Abarim ; in Hesebon 

And Heronaim, Seon's realm, bej-ond 

The flow'ry dale of Sibma clad with vines, 

And Eleale, to th' Asphaltic pool : 

Peor his other name, when he enticed 

Israel in Sittim, on their march from Nile, 

To do him wanton rites, which cost them woe. 

Yet thence his lustful orgies he enlarged 

Even to that hill of scandal, by the grove 

Of Moloch homicide, lust hard by hate ; 

Till good Josiah drove them thence to hell. 

With these came they, who, from the bord'ring flood 

Of old Euphrates to the brook that parts 

^Egypt from Syrian ground, had general names 

Of Baalim and Ashtaroth, those male. 

These feminine : for spirits when they please 

Can either sex assume, or both ; so soft 

And uncompounded is their essence pure ; 

Nor tied or manacled with joint or limb, 

Nor founded on the brittle strength of bones. 

Like cumbrous flesh ; but in what shape they choose, 

Dilated or condensed, bright or obscure, 

Can execute their airy purposes. 

And works of love or enmity fulfil. 

For those the race of Israel oft forsook 

Their living strength, and unfrequented left 

His righteous altar, bowing lowly down 

To bestial gods ; for which their heads as low 

Bow'd down in battle, sunk before the spear 

Of despicable foes. With these in troop 

Came Astoreth, whom the Phoenicians call'd 

Astarte, queen of heaven, with crescent horns ; 





PARADISE LOST. 




To whose bright image nightly by the moon 

Sidonian virgins paid their vows and songs, 

In Sion also not unsung, where stood 

Her temple on th' offensive mountain, built 

By that uxorious king, whose heart though large, 

Beguiled by fair idolatressess, fell 

To idols foul. Thammuz came next behind, 

WTiose annual wound in Lebanon allured 

The Syrian damsels to lament his fate 

In amourous ditties all a summer's day, 

While smooth Adonis from his native rock 

Ran purple to the sea, supposed with blood 

Of Thammuz yearly wounded : the love-tale 

Infected Sion's daughters with like heat, 

Whose wanton passions in the sacred porch 

Ezekiel saw, when by the vision led 

His eyes survey 'd the dark idolatries 

Of alienated Judah. Next came one 

WTio moum'd in earnest, when the captive ark 

Maim'd his brute image, head and hands lopt off 

In his own temple, on the grunsel edge, 

Where he fell flat, and shamed his worshippers : 

Dagon his name ; sea monster, upward man 

And downward fish : yet had his temple high 

Rear'd in Azotus, dreaded through the coast 

Of Palestine, in Gath, and Ascalon, 

And Accaron, and Gaza's frontier bounds. 

Him follow'd Rimmon, whose delightful seat 

Was fair Damascus, on the fertile banks 

Of Abbana and Pharphar, lucid streams. 

He also against the house of God was bold 

A leper once he lost, and gain'd a king, 

Ahaz his sottish conqueror, whom he drew 

God's altar to disparage, and displace 

For one of Syrian mode, whereon to bum 

His odious off'rings, and adore the gods 

Whom he had vanquish'd. After these appear'd 

A crew, who under names of old renown, 

Osiris, Isis, Orus, and their train. 

With monstrous shapes and sorceries abused 

Fanatic ^gypt and her priests, to seek 

Their wand'ring Gods disguised in brutish forms. 

Rather than human. Nor did Israel 'scape 

Th' infection, when their borrow'd gold composed 

The calf in Oreb ; and the rebel king 

Doubled that sin in Bethel and in Dan, 

Lik'ning his Maker to the grazed ox, 

Jehovah, who in one night, when he pass'd 

From ^gypt marching, equall'd with one stroke 

Both her first-born and all her bleating gods. 




v^ 




PARADISE LOST. 




Belial came last, than whom a spirit more lewd 
Fell not from heaven, or more gross to love 
Vice for itself : to him no temple stood 
Or altar smoked ; yet who more oft than he 
In temples and at altars, when the priest 
Turns atheist, as did Eli's sons, who fiU'd 
With lust and violence the house of God ? 
In courts and palaces he also reigns, 
And in luxurious cities, where the noise 
Of riot ascends above their loftiest towers. 
And injury, and outrage : and when night 
Darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons 
Of Belial, flown with insolence and wine. 
Witness the streets of Sodom, and that night 
In Gibeah, when the hospitable door 
Exposed a matron to avoid worse rape. 

These were the prime in order and in might ; 
The rest were long to tell, though far renown'd, 
Th' Ionian gods, of Javan's issue, held 
Gods, yet confess'd later than heav'n and earth, 
Their boasted parents. Titan heav'n's first-born, 
With his enormous brood and birthright seized 
By younger Saturn, he from mightier Jove, 
His own and Rhea's son, like measure found ; 
So Jove usurping reign'd : these first in Crete 
And Ida known : thence on the snowy top 
Of cold Olympus ruled the middle air, 
Their highest heaven ; or on the Delphian cliff 
Or in Dodona, and through all the bounds 
Of Doric land ; or who with Saturn old 
Fled over Adria to th' Hesperian fields. 
And o'er the Celtic roam'd the utmost isles. 

All these and more came flocking ; but with looks 
Down-cast and damp, yet such wherein appear'd 
Obscure some glimpse of j oy, to have found their chief 
Not in despair, to have found themselves not lost 
In loss itself; which on his count'nance cast 
Like doubtful hue : but he, his wonted pride 
Soon recollecting, vdth high words, that bore 
Semblance of worth not substance, gently raised 
Their fainted courage, and dispell'd their fears. 
Then straight commands, that at the warlike sound 
Of trumpets loud and clarions be uprear'd 
His mighty standard : that proud honour claim'd 
Azazel as his right, a cherub tall ; 
Who forthwith from the glittering staff unfurl'd 
Th' imperial ensign, which, full high advanced. 
Shone like a meteor, streaming to the wind, 
With gems and golden lustre rich emblazed, 
Seraphic arms and trophies ; all the while 




vt 



V 







PARADISE LOST. 



13 




•^ 



Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds : 

At which the universal host up sent 

A shout that tore hell's concave, and beyond 

Frighted the reign of Chaos and old Night. 

All in a moment through the gloom were seen 

Ten thousand banners rise into the air 

With orient colours waving : with them rose 

A forest huge of spears ; and thronging helms 

Appear'd, and serried shields in thick array 

Of depth immeasurable : anon they move 

In perfect phalanx to the Dorian mood 

Of flutes and soft recorders ; such as raised 

To highth of noblest temper heroes old 

Arming to battle ; and instead of rage 

Deliberate valour breath'd, firm, and unmoved 

With dread of death to flight or foul retreat ; 

Nor wanting power to mitigate and swage 

With solemn touches troubled thoughts, and chase 

Anguish, and doubt, and fear, and sorrow, and pain, 

From mortal or immortal minds. Thus they, 

Breathing united force, with fixed thought. 

Moved on in silence to soft pipes, that charmed 

Their painful steps o'er the burnt soil ; and now 

Advanced in view they stand, a horrid front 

Of dreadful length and dazzling arms, in guise 

Of warriors old with order'd spear and shield. 

Awaiting what command their mighty chief 

Had to impose : he through the armed files 

Darts his experienced eye, and soon traverse 

The whole battalion views ; their order due, 

Their visages and stature as of Gods ; 

Their number last he sums. And now his heart 

Distends with pride, and hard'ning in his strength 

Glories ; for never, since created man. 

Met such embodied force, as named with these 

Could merit more than that small infantry 

Warr'd on by cranes ; though all the giant brood 

Of Phlegra with th' heroic race were join'd 

That fought at Thebes and Ilium, on each side 

Mix'd with auxiliar Gods ; and what resounds 

In fable or romance of Uther's son, 

Begirt with British and Armoric knights ; 

And all who since, baptized or infidel. 

Jousted in Aspramont or Montalban, 

Damasco, or Marocco, or Trebisond, 

Or whom Biserta sent from Afric shore. 

When Charlemain with all his peerage fell 

By Fontarabia. Thus far these beyond 

Compare of mortal prowess, yet observed 

Their dread commander : he, above the rest 






k.- 



■^ ^ 



^Z 




14 



PARADISE LOST. 



%t 




111 shape and gesture proudly eminent, 
Stood like a tow'r : his form had yet not lost 
All her original brightness, nor appear'd 
Less than Arch-angel ruin'd, and th' excess 
Of glory obscured : as when the sun new-risen 
Looks through the horizontal misty air. 
Shorn of his beams ; or from behind the moon, 
In dim eclipse, disastrous twilight sheds 
On half the nations, and with fear of change 
Perplexes monarchs : darken'd so, yet shone 
Above them all th' Arch-angel : but his face 
Deep scars of thunder had entrench'd, and care 
Sat on his faded cheek, but under brows 
Of dauntless courage, and considerate pride 
Waiting revenge : cruel his eye, but cast 
Signs of remorse and passion to behold 
The fellows of his crime, the followers rather. 
Far other once beheld in bliss, condemn'd 
For ever now to have their lot in pain, 
Millions of spirits for his fault amerced 
Of heav'n, and from eternal splendours flung 
For his revolt, yet faithful how they stood. 
Their glory wither'd : as when heaven's fire 
Hath scath'd the forest oaks or mountain pines, 
With singed top their stately growth, though bare. 
Stands on the blasted heath. He now prepared 
To speak ; whereat their doubled ranks they bend 
From wing to wng, and half inclose him round 
With all his peers : attention held them mute. 
Thrice he assay'd, and thrice in spite of scorn 
Tears, such as angels weep, burst forth ; at last 
Words interwove with sighs found out their way. 

O myriads of immortal spirits, O Powers 
Matchless, but with th' Almighty, and that strife 
Was not inglorious, though th' evenfwas dire, 
As this place testifies, and this dire change 
Hateful to utter : but what power of mind, 
Foreseeing or presaging, from the depth 
Of knowledge past or present, could have fear'd, 
How such united force of Gods, how such 
As stood like these, could ever know repulse ? 
For who can yet believe, though after loss, 
That all these puissant legions, whose exile 
Hath emptied heav'n, shall fail to reascend 
Self-raised, and repossess their native seat ? 
For me, be witness all the host of heav'n 
If counsels different or danger shunn'd 
By me have lost our hopes : but he, who reigns 
Monarch in heav'n, till then as one secure 
Sat on his throne, upheld by old repute, 







•^^ 




PARADISE LOST. 



15 



^ 




Consent, or custom, and his regal state 

Put forth at full, but still his strength conceal'd, 

Which tempted our attempt, and wrought our fall. 

Henceforth his might we know, and know our own, 

So as not either to provoke, or dread 

New war, provoked ; our better part remains 

To work in close design, by fraud or guile, 

What force effected not ; that he no less 

At length from us may find, who overcomes 

By force, hath overcome but half his foe. 

Space may produce new worlds, whereof so rife 

There went a fame in heav'n, that he ere long 

Intended to create, and therein plant 

A generation, whom his choice regard 

Should favour equal to the sons of heaven : 

Thither, if but to pry, shall be perhaps 

Our first eruption, thither or elsewhere ; 

For this infernal pit shall never hold 

Celestial spirits in bondage, nor th' Abyss 

Long under darkness cover. But these thoughts 

Full counsel must mature : peace is despair'd ; 

For who can think submission ? war then, war 

Open or understood, must be resolved. 

He spake : and to confirm his words outflew 
Millions of flaming swords, drawn from the thighs 
Of mighty Cherubim ; the sudden blaze 
Far round illumined hell : highly they raged 
Against the highest, and fierce with grasped arms 
Clash 'd on their sounding shields the din of war. 
Hurling defiance toward the vault of heav'n. 

There stood a hill not far, whose grisly top 
Belch'd fire and rolling smoke ; the rest entire 
Shone with a glossy scurf, undoubted sign 
That in his womb was hid metallic ore. 
The work of sulphur. Thither, wing'd with speed, 
A numerous brigade hasten'd ; as when bands 
Of pioneers, with spade and pickaxe arm'd, 
Forerun the royal camp, to trench a field, 
Or cast a rampart. Mammon led them on, 
Mammon, the least erected spirit that fell 
From heav'n; for ev'n in heav'n his looks and thoughts 
Were always downward bent, admiring more 
The riches of heav'n's pavement, trodden gold, 
Than aught divine or holy else enjoy'd 
In vision beatific. By him first 
Men also, and by his suggestion taught 
Ransack'd the centre, and with impious hands 
Rifled the bowels of their mother earth 
For treasures better hid. Soon had his crew 
Open'd into the hill a spacious wound, 




-yj= 




::^ 



l6 



PARADISE LOST. 



I ":\ 




And digg'd out ribs of gold. Let none admire 
/ That riches grow in hell ; that soil may best 
' Deserve the precious bane. And here let those 
Who boast in mortal things, and wondYing tell 
Of Babel and the works of Memphian kings, 
Learn how their greatest monuments of fame 
And strength and art are easily outdone 
By spirits reprobate, and in an hour 
What in an age they with incessant toil 
And hands innumerable scarce perform. 
Nigh on the plain in many cells prepared, 
I That underneath had veins of liquid fire 
j Sluiced from the lake, a second multitude 
With wond'rous art founded the massy ore. 
Severing each kind, and scumm'd the bullion dross. 
A third as soon had formed within the ground 
A various mould, and from the boiling cells 
By strange conveyance fill'd each hollow nook : 
As in an organ from one blast of wind 
To many a row of pipes the sound-board breathes. 
Anon out of the earth a fabric huge 
Rose, like an exhalation, with the sound 
Of dulcet symphonies and voices sweet,. 
Built like a temple, where pilasters round 
Were set, and Doric pillars overlaid 
With golden architrave ; nor did there want 
Cornice or frieze with bossy sculptures graven ; 
The roof was fretted gold. Not Babylon, 
Nor great Alcairo such magnificence 
Equall'd in all their glories, to enshrine 
Belus or Serapis their Gods, or seat 
Their kings, when ^gypt with Assyria strove 
In wealth and luxury. Th' ascending pile 
Stood fixt her stately highth, and straight the doors, 
Op'ning their brazen folds, discover, wide 
Within, her ample spaces, o'er the smooth 
And level pavement : from the arched roof, 
Pendant by subtle magic, many a row 
Of starry lamps and blazing cressets, fed 
With Naphtha and Asphaltus, yielded light 
As from a sky. The hasty multitude 
Admiring enter'd, and the work some praise, 
And some the architect : his hand was known 
In heav'n by many a towered structure high, 
Where sceptred angels held their residence. 
And sat as princes ; whom the supreme King 
Exalted to such power, and gave to rule. 
Each in his hierarchy, the orders bright. 
Nor was his name unheard or unadored 
In ancient Greece ; and in Ausonian land 





PARADISE LOST. 



17 




**i» 




Men call'd him Mulciber ; and how he fell 

From heav'n they fabled, throv/n by angry Jove 

Sheer o'er the crystal battlements ; from mom 

To noon he fell, from noon to dewy eve, 

A summer's day ; and with the setting sun 

Dropt from the Zenith like a falling star, 

On l,emnos th' ^gean isle : thus they relate. 

Erring ; for he with this rebellous rout 

Fell long before ; nor aught avail 'd him now 

To have built in heav'n high towers; nor did he 'scape 

By all his engines, but was headlong sent 

With his industrious crew to build in hell. 

ileanwhile the winged heralds by command 
Of sov'reign power, with awful ceremony 
And trumpets sound, throughout the host proclaim. 
A solemn council forthwith to be held 
At Pandeemonium, the high capital 
Of Satan and his peers : their summons call'd 
From every band and squared regiment 
By place or choice the worthiest ; they anon 
With hundreds and with thousands trooping came 
Attended : all access was throng'd, the gates 
And porches wide, but chief the spacious hall, 
Though like a cover'd field, where champions bold 
Wont ride in arm'd, and at the Soldan's chair 
Defied the best of Panim chivalry 
To mortal combat or career with lance, 
Thick swarm d, both on the ground and in the air, 
Brush'd with the hiss of rustling wings. As bees 
In spring time, when the sun with Taurus rides, 
Pour forth their populous youth about the hive 
In clusters ; they among fresh dews and flowers 
Fly to and fro, or on the smoothed plank, 
The suburb of their slraw-bi:ilt citadel. 
New rubb'd with balm, expatiate, and confer 
Their state affairs : So thick the aer}' crowd 
Swarm'd and were straiten'd ; till, the signal giv'n, 
Behold a wonder ! they, but now who seem'd 
In bigness to surpass earth's giant sons. 
Now less than smallest dwarfs, in narrow room 
Throng numberless, like that Pygmean race 
Be3-ond the Indian nrount, or Fairy Elves, 
Whose midnight revels, by a forest side, 
Or fountain, some belated peasant sees, 
Or dreams he sees, while over head the moon 
Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth 
Wheels her pale course ; they, on their mirth and dance 
Intent, with jocund music charm his ear ; 
At once with joy and fear his heart rebounds. 
Thus incorporeal spirits to smallest forms 




'^ 





i8 



PARADISE LOST. 



Reduced their shapes immense, and were at large, 
Though without number still, amidst the hall 
Of that infernal court. But far within. 
And in their own dimensions like themselves, 
The great Seraphic lords and Cherubim 
In close recess and secret conclave sat, 
A thousand Demi-gods on golden seats, 
Frequent and full. After short silence then 
And summons read, the great consult began. 



i|i4i 



\i£^ 







PARADISE LOST. 



19 



A \ 



BOOK II. 



The Argument. 

The consultation begun . Satan debates whether another battle 
be to be hazarded for the recovery of heaven : some advise it, 
others dissuade. A third proposal is preferred, mentioned before 
by Satan, to search the truth of that prophecy or tradition in 
heaven concerning another world, and another kind of creature, 
equal, or not ranch inferior, to themselves, about this time to be 
created : their doubt who shall be sent on this difficult search : 
Satan their chief undertakes alone the voyage, is honoured and 
applauded. The council thus ended, the rest partake them several 
ways, and to several employments, as their inclinations lead them, 
to entertain the time till Satan return. Ke passes on his journey to 
hell gates, finds them shut, and who sat there to guard them, by 
whom at length they are opened, and discover to him the great gulf 
between hell and heaven : with what difficulty he passes through, 
directed by Chaos, the Power of that place, to the sight of this new 
world which he sought. 



!^- 



High on a throne of royal state, which far 

Outshone the wealth of Ormus and of Ind, 

Or where the gorgeous east with richest hand 

Show'rs on her kings Barbaric pearl and gold, 

Satan exalted sat, by merit raised 

To that bad eminence ; and, from despair 

Thus high uplifted beyond hope, aspires 

Beyond thus high, insatiate to pursue 

Vain war with heav'n, and by success untaught 

His proud imaginations thus displa5''d. 

Powers and Dominions, Deities of heav'n. 
For since no deep within her gulf can hold 
Immortal vigor, though oppress'd and fall'n, 
I give not heav'n for lost : from this descent 
Celestial virtues rising will appear 
More glorious and more dread, than from no fall. 
And trust themselves to fear no second fate. 
Me though just right and the fix'd laws of heav'n 
Did first create j^our leader, next free choice, 
With what besides, in council or in fight, 
Hath been achieved of merit ; yet this loss. 
Thus far at least recover d, hath much more 
Establish'd in a safe unen\ned throne, 
Yielded with full consent. The happier state 
In heav'n, which follows dignity, might draw 
Envy from each inferior ; but who here 
Will envy whom the hi^jhest place exposes 




-.-. /"^^ 



--irc:_>'V--t?-^ 



c^ 






20 PARADISE LOST. 

Foremost to stand against the Thund'rer's aim 
Your bulwark, and condemns to greatest share 
Of endless pain ? Where there is then no good 
For which to strive, no strife can grow up there 
From faction ; for none sure will claim in hell 
Precedence, none, whose portion is so small 
Of present pain, that with ambitious mind 
Will covet more. With this advantage then 
To union, and firm faith, and firm accord. 
More than can be in heav'n, we now return 
To claim our just inheritance of old, 
Surer to prosper than prosperity 
Could have assured us ; and by what best way, 
Whether of open war or covert guile. 
We now debate ; who can advise, may speak. 

He ceased ; and next him Moloch, sceptr'd king, 
Stood up, the strongest and the fiercest spirit 
That fought in heav'n, now fiercer by despair : 
His trust was with th' Eternal to be deem'd 
Equal in strength, and rather than be less 
Cared not to be at all ; with that care lost 
Went all his fear : of God, or hell, or worse, 
He reck'd not ; and these words thereafter spake : 

My sentence is for open war : of wiles. 
More unexpert, I boast not : them let those 
Contrive who need, or when they need, not now : 
For while they sit contriving, shall the rest, 
Millions that stand in arms and longing wait 
The signal to ascend, sit ling' ring here 
Heav'n's fugitives, and for their dwelling-place 
Accept this dark opprobrious den of shame. 
The prison of his tyranny who reigns 
By our delay ? no, let us rather choose, 
Arm'd with hell flames and fury, all at once 
O'er heav'n's high towers to force resistless way, 
Turning our tortures into horrid arms 
Against the torturer ; when to meet the noise 
Of his almighty engine he shall hear 
Infernal thunder, and for lightning see 
Black fire and horror shot with equal rage 
Among his angels ; and his throne itself 
Mixt with Tartarean sulphur and strange fire, 
His own invented torments. But perhaps 
The way seems difficult and steep to scale 
With upright wing against a higher foe. 
Let such bethink them, if the sleepy drench 
Of that forgetful lake benumb not still, 
That in our proper motion we ascend 
Up to our native seat : descent and fall 
To us is adverse. Who but felt of late, 




u... 



a^ 




PARADISE LOST. 



m 




m 



When the fierce foe hung on our broken rear 

Insulting, and pursued us through the deep, 

With what compulsion and laborious flight 

We sunk thus low ? th' ascent is easy then ; 

Th' event is fear'd ; should we again provoke 

Our stronger, some worse way his wrath may find 

To our destruction : if there be a hell 

Fear to be worse destroy'd : what can be worse 

Than to dwell here, driv'n out from bliss, condemn'd 

In this abhorred deep to utter woe ; 

Where pain of unextinguishable fire 

Must exercise us without hope of end, 

The vassals of his anger, when the scourge 

Inexorably, and the torturing hour 

Calls us to penance ? more destroy'd than thus 

We should be quite abolish'd and expire. 

What fear we then ? what doubt we to incense 

His utmost ire? which, to the highth enraged, 

Will either quite consume us, and reduce 

To nothing this essential ; happier far. 

Than miserable to have eternal being. 

Or if our substance be indeed divine. 

And cannot cease to be, we are at worst 

On this side nothing ; and by proof we feel 

Our power sufficient to disturb his heav'n, 

And with perpetual inroads to alarm. 

Though inaccessible, his fatal throne : 

Which, if not victor)', is yet revenge. 

He ended frowning, and his look denounced 
Desperate revenge and battle dangerous 
To less than Gods. On th' other side up rose 
Belial, in act more graceful and humane ; 
A fairer person lost not heav'n ; he seem'd 
For dignity composed and high exploit : 
But all was false and hollow ; though his tongue 
Dropp'd Manna, and could make the worse appear 
The better reason, to perplex and dash 
Maturest counsels ; for his thoughts were low ; 
To vice industrious, but to nobler deeds 
Timorous and slothful : yet he pleased the ear, 
And with persuasive accent thus began. 

I should be much for open war, O Peers, 
As not behind in hate, if what was urged, 
Main reason to persuade immediate war, 
Did not dissuade me most, and seem to cast 
Ominous conjecture on the whole success ; 
When he, who most excels in fact of arms, 
In what he counsels and in what excels 
Mistrustful, grounds his courage on despair 
And utter dissolution, as the scope 



''///■-■i 











PARADISE LOST. 




ff 



H:^^ 




Of all his aim, after some dire revenge. 

First, what revenge ? the towers of heav'n are fill'd 

With armed watch, that render all access 

Impregnable ; oft on the bordering deep 

Encamp their legions, or with obscure wing 

Scout far and wide into the realm of night, 

Scorning surprise. Or could we break our way 

By force, and at our heels all hell should rise. 

With blackest insurrection to confound 

Heav'n's purest light, yet our great enemy 

All incorruptible would on his throne 

Sit unpolluted ; and th' ethereal mould 

Incapable of stain would soon expel 

Her mischief, and purge oflf the baser fire. 

Victorious. Thus repulsed, our final hope 

Is flat despair : we must exasperate 

Th' almighty Victor to spend all his rage. 

And that must end us, that must be our cure. 

To be no more : sad cure ; for who would lose, 

Though full of pain, this intellectual being. 

Those thoughts that wander through eternity. 

To perish rather, swallowed up and lost 

In the wide womb of uncreated night. 

Devoid of sense and motion ? and who knows, 

Let this be good, whether our angry foe 

Can give it, or will ever? how he can, 

Is doubtful ; that he never will, is sure 

Will he, so wise, let loose at once his ire. 

Belike through impotence or unaware, 

To give his enemies their wnsh, and end 

Them in his anger, whom his anger saves 

To punish endless ? Wherefore cease we then ? 

Say they who counsel war ; — We are decreed. 

Reserved, and destined to eternal woe ; 

Whatever doing, what can we suffer more, 

What can we suffer worse ? — Is this then worst. 

Thus sitting, thus consulting, thus in arms ? 

What, when we fled amain, pursued and struck 

With heav'n's afflicting thunder, and besought 

The deep to shelter us? this hell then seem'd 

A refuge from those wounds. Or when we lay 

Chain'd on the burning lake? that sure was worse. 

What if the breath that kindled those grim fires 

Awaked should blow them into sevenfold rage. 

And plunge us in the flames ? or from above 

Should intermitted vengeance arm again 

His red right hand to plague us ? what, if all 

Her stores were open'd, and this firmament 

Of hell should spout her cataracts of fire. 

Impendent horrors, threatening hideous fall 





PARADISE LOST. 



23 



One da}^ upon our heads ; w'hile we, perhaps 

Designing or exhorting glorious war, 

Caught in a fiery tempest shall be hurl'd 

Each on his rock trausfix'd, the sport and prey 

Of racking whirlwinds ; or for ever sunk 

Under yon boiling ocean, wrapt in chains ; 

There to converse with everlasting groans, 

Unrespited, unpitied, unreprieved, 

Ages of hopeless end ? this would be worse. 

War therefore, open or conceal'd, alike 

My voice dissuades ; for what can force or guile 

With him, or who deceive his mind, whose eye 

Views all things at one ^•iew ? He from heav'n's hightli 

All these our motions vain sees and derides ; 

Not more almighty to resist our might, 

Than wise to frustrate all our plots and wiles. 

Shall we then live thus vile, the race of heav'n, 

Thus trampled, thus expell'd, to suflfer here 

Chains and these torments ? better these than worse 

By my advice ; since fate inevitable 

Subdues us, and omnipotent decree, 

The victor's will. To suifer, as to do, 

Our strength is equal, nor the law unjust 

That so ordains : this was at first resolved, 

If we were wise, against so great a foe 

Contending, and so doubtful what might fall. 

I laugh, when those, who at the spear are bold 

And vent'rous, if that fail them, shrink and fear 

What yet they know must follow, to endure 

Exile, or ignominy, or bonds, or pain. 

The sentence of their conqueror : this is now 

Our doom ; which if we can sustain and bear, 

Our supreme foe in time may much remit 

His anger, and perhaps thus far removed 

Not mind us not offending, satisfied 

With what is punish 'd : whence these raging fires 

Will slacken, if his breath stir not their flames 

Our purer essence then will overcome 

Their noxious vapour, or enured not feel ; 

Or changed at length, and to the place conform'd 

In temper and in nature, t\411 receive 

Familiar the fierce heat, and void of pain ; 

This horror will grow mild, this darkness light : 

i3esides what hope the never-ending flight 

Of future da^'S may bring, what chance, what change 

Worth waiting, since our present lot appears 

For happy though but ill, for ill not worst, 

If we procure not to ourselves more woe. 

Thus Belial with words cloth'd in reason's garb 
Counsell'd ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth. 






24 



PARADISE LOST. 



%_. 





Not peace : and after him thus Mammon spake. 

Either to disenthrone the King of heav'n 
We war, if war be best, or to regain 
Our own right lost : Him to unthrone we then 
May hope, when everlasting Fate shall yield 
To fickle Chance, and Chaos judge the strife : 
The former vain to hope argues as vain 
The latter : for what place can be for us 
Within heav'n's bound, unless heav'n's Lord supreme 
We overpower ? suppose He should relent 
And publish grace to all, on promise made 
Of new subjection ; with what eyes could we 
Stand in his presence humble, and receive 
Strict laws imposed, to celebrate his throne 
With warbled hymns, and to his Godhead sing 
Forced hallelujahs ; while he lordly sits 
Our envied Sov'reign, and his altar breathes 
Ambrosial odours and ambrosial flowers. 
Our servile offerings ? This must be our task 
In heav'n, this our delight ; how wearisome 
Eternity so spent in worship paid 
To whom we hate ! Let us not then pursue 
By force impossible, by leave obtain'd 
Unacceptable, though in heav'n, our state 
Of splendid vassalage, but rather seek 
Our own good from ourselves, and from our own 
Live to ourselves, though in this vast recess, 
Free, and to none accountable, preferring 
Hard liberty before the easy yoke 
Of servile pomp. Our greatness will appear 
Then most conspicuous, when great things of small, 
Useful of hurtful, prosperous of adverse, 
We can create ; and in what place so e'er 
Thrive under evil, and work ease out of pain 
Through labour and endurance. This deep world 
Of darkness do we dread ? how oft amidst 
Thick clouds and dark doth heav'n's all-ruling Sire 
Choose to reside, his glory unobscured. 
And with the majesty of darkness round 
Covers his throne ; from whence deep thunders roar 
Must'riug their rage, and heav'n resembles hell ? 
As He our darkness, cannot we His light 
Imitate when we please ? this desert soil 
Wants not her hidden lustre, gems and gold ; 
Nor want we skill or art, from whence to raise 
Magnificence ; and what can heav'n shew more? 
Our torments also may in length of time 
Become our elements, these piercing fires 
As soft as now severe, our temper changed 
Into their temper ; which must needs remove 






-^^ 



# 











PARADISE LOST. 

The sensible of pain. All things invite 
To peaceful counsels, and the settled state 
Of order, how in safety best we may 
Compose our present evils, with regard 
Of what we are and were, dismissing quite 
All thoughts of war. Ye have what I advise. 

He scarce had finish'd, when such murmur fill'd 
Th' assemblv, as when hollow rocks retain 
The sound of blust'ring winds, which all night long 
Had roused the sea, now with hoarse cadence lull 
Sea-faring men o'er watch'd, whose bark by chance 
Or pinnace anchors in a craggy bay 
After the tempest : such applause was heard 
As Llammon ended, and his sentence pleased, 
Advising peace : for such another field 
They dreaded worse than hell : so much the fear 
Of thunder and the sword of Michael 
Wrought still within them ; and no less desire 
To found this nether empire, which might rise, 
By policy and long process of time. 
In emulation opposite to heav'n. 
Which when Beelzebub perceived, than whom, 
Satan except, none higher sat, with grave 
Aspect he rose, and in his rising seem'd 
A pillar of state : deep on his front engraven 
Deliberation sat and public care ; 
And princely counsel in his face yet shone. 
Majestic though in ruin : sage he stood. 
With Atlantean shoulders fit to bear 
The weight of mightiest monarchies ; his look 
Drew audience and attention still as night 
Or summer's noon-tide air, while thus he spake. 

Thrones and imperial Powers, offspring of heav'n, 
Ethereal Virtues ; or these titles now 
Must we renounce, and changing style be call'd 
Princes of hell? for so the popular vote 
Inclines, here to continue, and build up here 
A growing empire. Doubtless ; while we dream, 
And know not that the King of heav'n hath dooni'd 
This place our dungeon, not our safe retreat 
Beyond his potent arm, to live exempt 
From heav'n's high jurisdiction, in new league 
Banded against his throne, but to remain 
In strictest bondage, though thus far removed. 
Under the inevitable curb reser\''d 
His captive multitude : for he, be sure, 
In highth or depth, still first and last will reign 
Sole King, and of his kingdom lose no part 
By our revolt, but over hell extend 
His empire, and with iron sceptre rule, 



25 






26 



PARADISE LOST. 




- % 



% 



Us here, as with his golden those in heav'n. 

What sit we then projecting peace and war? 

War hath determined us, and foil'd with loss 

Irreparable ; terms of peace yet none 

Vouchsafed or sought ; for what peace will be giv'n 

To us enslaved, but custody severe. 

And stripes, and arbitrary punishment 

Inflicted ? and what peace can we return, 

But to our power hostility and hate, 

Untamed reluctance, and revenge, though slow. 

Yet ever plotting how the conqueror least 

May reap his conquest, and may least rejoice 

In doing what we most in suffering feel ? 

Nor will occasion want, nor shall we need 

With dangerous expedition to invade 

Heav'n, whose high walls fear no assault, or siege, 

Or ambush from the deep. What if we find 

Some easier enterprize ? There is a place, 

(If ancient and prophetic fame in heav'n 

Err not, ) another world, the happy seat 

Of some new race call'd Man, about this time 

To be created like to us, though less 

In power and excellence, but favour'd more 

Of Him who rules above ; so was His will 

Pronounced among the Gods, and by an oath, 

That shook heav'n's whole circumference, confirm'd. 

Thither let us bend all our thoughts, to learn 

What creatures there inhabit, of what mould 

Or substance, how endued, and what their power, 

And where their weakness, how attempted best. 

By force or subtilty. Though heav'n be shut, 

And heav'n's high Arbitrator sit secure 

In his own strength, this place may lie exposed, 

The utmost border of his kingdom, left 

To their defence who hold it : here perhaps 

Some advantageous act may be achieved 

By sudden onset, either with hell fire 

To waste his whole creation, or possess 

All as our own, and drive as we were driven 

The puny habitants ; or if not drive. 

Seduce them to our party, that their God 

May prove their foe, and with repenting hand 

Abolish his own works. This would surpass 

Common revenge, and interrupt his joy 

In our confusion, and our joy upraise 

In his disturbance ; when his darling sons, 

Hurl'd headlong to partake with us, shall curse 

Their frail original, and faded bliss. 

Faded so soon. Advise if this be worth 

Attempting, or to sit in darkness here 






PARADISE LOST. 



27 



Hatching vain empires. — Thus Beelzebub 
Pleaded his devilish counsel, first devised 
By Satan, and in part proposed ; for whence, 
But from the author of all ill, could spring 
So deep a malice, to confound the race 
Of mankind in one root, and earth with hell 
To mingle and involve, done all to spite 
The great Creator ? but their spite still serves 
His glory to augment. The bold design 
Pleased highly those infernal states, and joy 
Sparkled in all their eyes ; wilh full assent 
They vote : whereat his speech he thus renews. 

Well have ye judged, well ended long debate, 
Svnod of Gods, and, like to what ye are, 
Great things resolved ; which from the lowest deep 
Will once more lift us up, in spite of fate, 
Nearer our ancient seat ; perhaps in view 
Of those bright confines, whence with neighbouring arms 
And opportune excursion we may chance 
Re-enter heav'n : or else in some mild zone 
Dwell, not unvisited of heav'n's fair light, 
Secure, and at the bright'ning orient beam 
Purge off this gloom ; the soft delicious air 
To heal the scar of these corrosive fires 
Shall breathe her balm. But first whom shall we send 
In search of this new world? whom shall we find 
Sufficient? who shall tempt with wand'ring feet 
The dark unbottom'd infinite abyss. 
And through the palpable obscure find out 
His uncouth way, or spread his airy flight, 
Upborne with indefatigable wings. 
Over the vast abrupt, ere he arrive 
The happy isle? what strength, what art can then 
Suffice, or what evasion bear him safe 
Through the strict sentries and stations thick 
Of angels watching round ? here he had need 
All circumspection, and we now no less 
Choice in our suffrage ; for on whom we send 
The weight of all, and our last hope, relies. 

This said, he sat ; and expectation held 
His look suspense, awaiting who appear' d 
To second, or oppose, or undertake 
The perilous attempt : but all sat mute. 
Pondering the danger with deep thoughts ; and each 
In others' count'nance read his own dismay 
Astonish'd ; none among the choice and prime 
Of those heav'n-warring champions could be found 
So hardy, as to proffer or accept 
Alone the dreadful voyage ; till at last 
Satan, whom now transcendent glory raised 



'I 






28 



PARADISE LOST. 




B 



f- ir 



Above his fellows, with monarchal pride, 
Conscious of highest worth, unmoved thus spake. 

O Progeny of heav'n, empyreal Thrones, 
With reason hath deep silence and demur 
Seized us, though undismay'd : long is the way 
And hard, that out of hell leads up to light ; 
Our prison strong ; this huge convex of fire. 
Outrageous to devour, immures us round 
Ninefold, and gates of burning adamant 
Barr'd over us prohibit all egress. 
These pass'd, if any pass, the void profound 
Of unessential night receives him next 
Wide gaping, and with utter loss of being 
Threatens him, plunged in that abortive gulf. 
If thence he 'scape into whatever world, 
Or unknown region, what remains him less 
Than unknown dangers and as hard escape ? 
But I should ill become this throne, O Peers, 
And this imperial sov'reiguty, adorn'd 
With splendour, arm'd with power, if aught proposed 
And judged of public moment, in the shape 
Of difficulty or danger, could deter 
Me from attempting. Wherefore do I assume 
These royalties, and not refuse to reign. 
Refusing to accept as great a share 
Of hazard as of honour, due alike 
To him who reigns, and so much to him due 
Of hazard more, as he above the rest 
High honour'd sits? Go, therefore, mighty Powers, 
Terror of heav'n though fall'n ! intend at home, 
While here shall be our home, what best may ease 
The present misery, and render hell 
More tolerable ; if there be cure or charm 
To respite, or deceive, or slack the pain 
Of this ill mansion. Intermit no watch 
Against a wakeful foe, while I abroad 
Through all the coasts of dark destruction seek 
Deliverance for us all. This enterprize 
None shall partake with me. Thus saying rose 
The monarch, and prevented all reply ; 
Prudent, lest from his resolution raised 
Others among the chief might offer now. 
Certain to be refused, what erst they fear'd ; 
And so refused might in opinion stand 
His rivals, winning cheap the high repute. 
Which he through hazard huge must earn. But they 
Dreaded not more th' adventure, than his voice 
Forbidding ; and at once with him they rose : 
Their rising all at once was as the sound 
Of thunder heard remote. Towards him thev bend 










PARADISE LOST. 



29 



With awful reverence prone ; and as a God 

Extol him equal to the highest in heav'n : 

Nor fail'd they to express how much they praised, 

That for the general safety he despised 

His own ; for neither do the spirits damn'd 

Lose all their virtue, lest bad men should boast 

Their specious deeds on earth, which glory excites, 

Or close ambition varnish'd o'er with zeal. 

Thus they their doubtful consultations dark 

Ended, rejoicing in their matchless chief: 

As when from mountain tops the dusky clouds 

Ascending, while the north wind sleeps, o'erspread 

Heav'n's cheerful face, the low'ring element 

Scowls o'er the darken'd landscape snow, or shower ; 

If chance the radiant sun with farewell sweet 

Extend his ev'ning beam, the fields revive, 

The birds their notes renew, and bleating herds 

Attest their joy, that hill and valley rings. 

O shame to men ! devil with devil damn'd 

Firm concord holds, men only disagree 

Of creatiu-es rational, though under hope 

Of heav'nly grace ; and God proclaiming peace. 

Yet live in hatred, enmity, and strife 

Among themselves, and levy cruel wars. 

Wasting the earth, each other to destroy : 

As if, which might induce us to accord, 

Man had not hellish foes enow besides. 

That day and night for his destruction wait. 

The Stygian council thus dissolved ; and forth 
In order came the grand infernal peers ; 
Midst came their mighty paramount, and seem'd 
Alone th' antagonist of heav'n, nor less 
Than hell's dread emperor, with pomp supreme 
And God-like imitated state : him round 
A globe of fiery Seraphim inclosed 
With bright emblazonry and horrent arms. 
Then of their session ended they bid cry 
With trumpets regal sound the great result : 
Toward the four winds four speedy Cherubim 
Put to their mouths the sounding alchymy, 
By heralds' voice explaiu'd : the hollow abyss 
Heard far and wide, and all the host of hell 
With deafning shout return'd them loud acclaim. 

Thence more at ease their minds, and somewhat raised 
By false presumptuous hope, the ranged Powers 
Disband, and w-and'ring each his several way 
Pursues, as inclination or sad choice 
Leads him perplex'd, where he may likeliest find 
Truce to his restless thoughts, and entertain 
The irk'-.rnie hours, ti:l his great chief return. 

™"^„,, - J 







li 30 PARADISE LOST. 

Part, on the plain or in the air sublime, 
'X \\ \ I , Upon the wing or in swift race contend, 

N V As at the Olympian games, or Pythian fields : 

Part curb their fiery steeds, or shun the goal 
With rapid wheels, or fronted brigades form. 
' , As when to warn proud cities war appears 

' r Waged in the troubled sky, and armies rush 

To battle in the clouds, before each van 
Prick forth the aery knights, and couch their spears 
Till thickest legions close ; with feats of arms 
From either end of heav'n the welkin burns. 
Others with vast Typhoean rage more fell 
Rend up both rocks and hills, and ride the air 
In whirlwind : hell scarce holds the wild uproar. 
As when Alcides from OJchalia crown'd 
With conquest felt th' envenom'd robe, and tore 
Through pain up by the roots Thessalian pines, 
And L/ichas from the top of CEta threw 

Into th' Euboic sea Others more mild, m. 

Retreated in a silent valley, sing p 

With notes angelical to many a harp ^■ 

Their own heroic deeds and hapless fall 
By doom of battle ; and complain that fate 
Free virtue should enthrall to force or chance. 
Their song was partial ; but the harmony, 
What could it less when spirits immortal sing ? 
Suspended hell, and took with ravishment 

The thronging audience. In discourse more sweet, , m 

For eloquence the soul, song charms the sense, m 

Others apart sat on a hill retired, "«' 

In thoughts more elevate, and reason 'd high 
Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate, 
Fix'd fate, free will, foreknowledge absolute ; 
And found no end, in wand'ring mazes lost. 
Of good and evil much they argued then, 
Of happiness and final misery. 

Passion and apathy, and glory and shame, . (^ 

Vain wisdom all, and false philosophy : 
Yet with a pleasing sorcery could charm 
Pain for a while or anguish, and excite 
Fallaciou3 hope, or arm th' obdured breast 
With stubborn patience as with triple steel. 
Another part in squadrons and gross bands, 
On bold adventure to discover wide 
That dismal world, if any clime perhaps, 
Might yield them easier habitation, bend 
Four ways their flying march, along the banks 
Of four infernal rivers, that disgorge 
Into the burning lake their baleful streams ; 
Abhorred Styx, the flood of deadly hate ; 



.^A^'x;" ^^-'^ 




PARADISE LOST. 



31 






Sad Acheron of sorrow, black and deep 

Cocytus, named of lamentation loud 

Heard on the rueful stream ; fierce Phlegeton, 

Whose waves of torrent fire inftame with rage. 

Far off from these a slow and silent stream, 

Lethe the river of oblivion, rolls 

Her wat'ry labyrinth, whereof who drinks. 

Forthwith his former state and being forgets, 

Forgets both joy and grief, pleasure, and pain. 

Beyond this flood a frozen continent 

Lies, dark and wild, beat with perpetual storms 

Of whirlwind and dire hail ; which on firm land 

Thaws not, but gathers heap, and ruin seems 

Of ancient pile ; all else deep snow and ice ; 

A gulf profound as that Serbonian bog 

Betwixt Damiata and mount Casius old. 

Where armies whole have sunk : the parching air 

Bums frore, and cold performs th' effect of fire. 

Thither by harpy-footed Furies haled 

At certain revolutions all the damn'd 

Are brought ; and feel by turns the bitter change 

Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce, 

From beds of raging fire to starve in ice 

Their soft ethereal warmth, and there to pine 

Immovable, infix' d, and frozen round, 

Periods of time ; thence hurried back to fire. 

They ferry over this Lethean sound 

Both to and fro, their sorrow to augment, 

And wish and struggle, as they pass to reach 

The tempting stream, with one small drop to lose 

In sweet forgetfulness all pain and woe. 

All in one moment, and so near the brink : 

But fate withstands, and to oppose th' attempt 

Medusa, with Gorgonian terror guards 

The ford, and of itself the water flies 

All taste of living wight, as once it fled 

The lip of Tantalus. Thus roving on 

In confused march forlorn, th' advent'rous bands, 

With slmdd'ring horror pale, and eyes aghast, 

View'd first their lamentable lot, and found 

No rest : through many a dark and dreary^ vale 

They pass'd, and many a region dolorous, 

O'er many a frozen, many a fiery Alp, 

Rocks, caves, lakes, fens, bogs, dens, and shades of death, 

A universe of death, which God by curse 

Created evil, for e\41 only good. 

Where all life dies, death lives, and nature breeds, 

Perverse, all monstrous, all prodigious things. 

Abominable, inutterable, and worse 

Than fables yet have feign'd, or fear conceived, 




I 





32 



PARADISE LOST. 



^\\l 



,. 



i^ 




"^ 



Gorgons, and Hydras, and Chimaeras dire. 

Meanwhile the adversary of God and man, 
Satan, with thoughts inflamed of highest design, 
Puts on swift wings, and toward the gates of hell 
Explores his solitary flight ; sometimes 
He scours the right-hand coast, sometimes the left ; 
Now shaves with level wing the deep, then soars 
Up to the fiery concave towering high. 
As when far off at sea a fleet descried 
Hangs in the clouds, by equinoctial winds 
Close sailing from Bengala, or the isles 
Of Ternate and Tidore, whence merchants bring 
Their spicy drugs : they on the trading flood 
Through the wide Ethiopian to the Cape 
Ply, stemming nightly toward the pole : so seem'd 
Far off" the flying fiend. At last appear 
Hell bounds, high reaching to the horrid roof ; 
And thrice threefold the gates ; three folds were brass, 
Three iron, three of adamantine rock, 
Impenetrable, impaled with circling fire. 
Yet unconsumed. Before the gates there sat 
On either side a formidable shape ; 
The one seem'd woman to the waist, and fair. 
But ended foul in many a scaly fold, 
Voluminous and vast, a serpent arm'd 
With mortal sting : about her middle round 
A cry of hell hounds never ceasing bark'd 
With wide Cerberean mouths full loud, and rung 
A hideous peal : yet, when they list, would creep, 
If aught disturbed their noise, into her womb. 
And kennel there ; yet there still bark'd and howl'd 
Within unseen. Far less abhorr'd than these 
Vex'd Scylla bathing in the sea that parts 
Calabria from the hoarse Trinacrian shore : 
Nor uglier follow the Night-hag,, when call'd 
In secret riding through the air she comes, 
Lured with the smell of infant blood, to dance 
With Lapland witches, while the labouring moon 
Eclipses at their charms. The other shape, 
If shape it might be call'd, that shape had none 
Distinguishable in member, joint, or limb, 
Or substance might be call'd that shadow seem'd, 
For each seem'd either ; black it stood as night. 
Fierce as ten furies, terrible as hell 
And shook a dreadful dart ; what seem'd his head 
The likeness of a kingly crown had on. 
Satan was now at hand, and from his seat 
The monster moving onward came as fast, 
With horrid strides ; hell trembled as he strode. 
The undaunted fiend what this might be admired ; 





PARADISE LOST. 



33 



si 




•^.. 



Admired, not fear'd ; God aud his Son except, 
Created thing naught valued he, nor shunn'd ; 
And with disdainful look thus first began. 

Whence and what art thou, execrable shape, 
That dar'st, though grim and terrible, advance 
Thy miscreated front athwart my way 
To yonder gates ? through them I mean to pass, 
That be assured without leave ask'd of thee. 
Retire, or taste thy folly, and learn by proof, 
Hell-born, not to contend with spirits of heav'n. 

To whom the goblin full of wrath replied, 
Art thou that traitor angel, art thou he, 
Who first broke peace in heav'n and faith, till then 
Unbroken, and in proud rebellious arms 
Drew after him the third part of heav'n's sons 
Conjured against the Highest ; for which both thou 
Aud they, outcast from God, are here condemu'd 
To waste eternal days in woe and pain ? 
And reckon 'st thou thyself with spirits of heav'n, 
Hell-doom'd, and breath'st defiance here and scom^ 
Where I reign king, and, to enrage thee more, 
Thy king and lord ? Back to thy pvinishment, 
False fugitive, and to thy speed add wings, 
Lest with a whip of scorpions I pursue 
Thy lingering, or with one stroke of this dart 
Strange horror seize thee, and pangs unfelt before.. 

So spake the grisly terror, and in shape, 
So speaking and so threat'uing, grew tenfold 
More dreadful and deform : on th' other side 
Incensed \AX.\x indignation Satan stood 
I'nterrified, and like a comet burn'd. 
That fires the length of Ophiucus huge 
In th' arctic sky, and from his horrid hair 
Shakes pestilence and war. Each at the head 
Levell'd his deadly aim ; their fatal hands 
No second stroke intend, and such a frown 
Each cast at th' other, as when two black clouds, 
With heav'n's artillery fraught, come rattling on 
Over the Caspian ; then stand front to front 
Hov'ring a space, till winds the signal blow 
To join their dark encounter in mid air : 
So frown'd the mighty combatants, that hell 
Grew darker at their frown, so match'd they stood ; 
For never but once more was either like 
To meet so great a foe : and now great deeds 
Had been achieved, whereof all hell had rung, 
Had not the snaky sorceress that sat 
Fast by hell gate, and kept the fatal key, 
Ris'n, and with hideous outcry rush'd between. 

O father, what intends thy hand, she cried^ 






34 



PARADISE LOST. 




Against thy only son ? What fury, O sou, 

Possesses thee to bend that mortal dart 

Against thy father's head? and kuow'st for whom? 

For Him who sits above, and laughs the while 

At thee ordain'd His drudge, to execute 

Whate er His wrath, which He calls justice, bids ; 

His wrath, which one day will destroy ye both. 

She spake, and at her words the hellish pest 
Forbore ; then these to her Satan return'd : 

So strange thy outcry, and thy words so strange 
Thou interposest, that my sudden hand 
Prevented spares to tell thee yet by deeds 
What it intends ; till first I know of thee. 
What thing thou art, thus double-form'd, and why, 
In this infernal vale first met, thou call'st 
Me father, and that phantasm call'st my son : 
I know thee not, nor ever saw till now 
Sight more detestable than him and thee. 
T' whom thus the portress of hell gate replied. 

Hast thou forgot me then, and do I seem 
Now in thine eye so foul, once deem'd so fair 
In heav'n ? when at th' assembly, and in sight 
Of all the seraphim vdth thee combined 
In bold conspiracy against heav'n's King, 
All on a sudden miserable pain 
Surprized thee, dim thine eyes, and dizzy swum 
In darkness, while thy head flames thick and fast 
Threw forth, till on the left side op'ning wide, 
Likest to thee in shape and countenance bright. 
Then shining heav'nly fair, a Goddess arm'd, 
Out of thy head I sprung : amazement seized 
All th' host of heav'n ; back they recoiFd afraid 
At first, and call'd me Sin, and for a sign 
Portentous held me : but familiar grown, 
I pleased, and with attractive graces won 
The most adverse, thee chiefly, who full oft 
Thyself in me thy perfect image viewing 
Becam'st enamour'd, and such joy thou took'st 
With me in secret, that my womb conceived 
A growing burthen. Meanwhile war arose, 
And fields were fought in heaven ; wherein remain'd, 
(For what could else ?) to our almighty foe 
Clear victory, to our part loss and rout 
Through all the empyrean : down they fell 
Driv'n headlong from the pitch of heav'n, down 
Into this deep, and in the general fall 
I also ; at which time this powerful key 
Into my hand was giv'n, with charge to keep 
These gates for ever shut, which none can pass 
Without my op'ning. Pensive here I sat 



3 




PARADISE LOST. 



\\\ 



'\ 



\-t. 



i 




Alone, but long I sat not, till my womb. 
Pregnant by thee and now excessive grown, 
Prodigious motion felt and rueful throes. 
At last this odious offspring whom thou seest, 
Thine own begotten, breaking violent way. 
Tore through my entrails, that with fear and pain 
Distorted all my nether shape thus grew 
Transform 'd : btit he my inbred enemy 
Forth issued, brandishing his fatal dart 
Made to destroy : I fled, and cried out Death ; 
Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh'd 
From all her caves, and back resounded Death. 
I fled, but he pursued, though more, it seems, 
Inflamed with lust than rage, and swifter far 
Me overtook his mother all dismay'd. 
And, in embraces forcible and foul 
Ingend'ring with me, of that rape begot 
These yelling monsters that with ceaseless cr}- 
Surround me, as thou saw'st, hourly conceived 
And hourly born, with sorrow infinite 
To me ; for when they list into the womb 
That bred them they return, and howl, and gnaw 
My bowels, their repast ; then bursting forth 
Afresh with conscious terrors vex me round. 
That rest or intermission none I find. 
Before mine eyes in opposition sits 
Grim Death my son and foe, who sets them on, 
And me his parent would full soon devour 
For want of other prey, but that he knows 
His end with mine involved ; and knows that I 
Should prove a bitter morsel, and his bane, 
Whenever that shall be ; so Fate pronounced. 
But thou, O father, I forewarn thee, shun 
His deadly arrow ; neither vainly hope 
To be invulnerable in those bright arms, 
Though temper'd heavenly ; for that mortal dint, 
Save he who reigns above, none can resist. 

She finish'd, and the subtle fiend his lore 
Soon learn'd, now milder, and thus answer'd srnooth. 
Dear daughter, since thou claim'st me for thy sire. 
And my fair son here show'st me, the dear pledge 
Of dalliance had with thee in heaven, and joys 
Then sweet, now sad to mention, through dire change 
Befall'n us, unforeseen, unthought of, know 
I come no enemy, but to set free 
From out this dark and dismal house of pain. 
Both him and thee, and all the heav'nly host 
Of spirits that, in our just pretences arm'd, 
Fell with us from on high : from them I go 
This uncouth errand sole, and one for all 



ms"- <^^g^ 






36 



PARADISE LOST. 




Myself expose, with lonely steps to tread 

Th' unfounded deep, and through the void immense 

To search with wandering quest a place foretold 

Should be, and, by concurring signs, ere now 

Created, vast and round, a place of bliss 

In the purlieiis of heaven, and therein placed 

A race of upstart creatures, to supply 

Perhaps our vacant room, though more removed, 

Lest heav'n surcharged with potent multitude 

Might hap to move new broils. Be this, or aught 

Than this more secret, now designed, I haste 

To know, and, this once known, shall soon return, 

And bring ye to the place where thou and Death 

Shall dwell at ease, and up and down unseen 

Wing silently the buxom air, imbalm'd 

With odours ; there ye shall be fed and fill'd 

Immeasurably, all things shall be your prey. 

He ceased, for both seem d highly pleased, and Death 
Grinn'd horrible a ghastly smile, to hear 
His famine should be fiU'd, and blest his maw 
Destined to that good hour : no less rejoiced 
His mother bad, and thus bespake her sire : 

The key of this infernal pit by due, 
And by command of heav'n's all-powerful King, 
I keep, by him forbidden to unlock 
These adamantine gates ; against all force 
Death ready stands to interpose his dart. 
Fearless to be o'ermatch'd by living might. 
But what owe I to his commands above. 
Who hates me, and hath hither thrust me down 
Into this gloom of Tartarus profound, 
To sit in hateful office, here confined. 
Inhabitant of heav'n and heav'nly-bom. 
Here, in perpetual agony and pain. 
With terrors and with clamours compass'd round 
Of mine own brood, that on my bowels feed? 
Thou art my father, thou my author, thou 
My being gav'st me ; whom should I obey 
But thee? whom follow? thou wilt bring me soon 
To that new world of light and bliss, among 
The Gods who live at ease, where I shall reign 
At thy right hand voluptuous, as beseems 
Thy daughter and thy darling, without end. 

Thus saying, from her side the fatal kej-. 
Sad instrument of all our woe, she took ; 
And, towards the gate rolling her bestial train. 
Forthwith the huge portcullis high up drew. 
Which but herself not all the Stygian powers 
Could once have moved ; then in the keyhole turns 
Th' intricate wards, and every bolt and bar 






PARADISE LOST. 



37 



■■W^:^ 



,f*-Xi 






::3 



Of massy iron or solid rock with ease 

Uufastens : on a sudden open fly 

With impetuous recoil and jarring sound 

Th' infernal doors, and on their hinges grate 

Harsh thunder, that the lowest bottom shook 

Of Erebus. She open'd, but to shut 

Excell'd her powers ; the gates wide open stood. 

That with extended wings a banner' d host 

Under spread ensigns marching might pass through 

With horse and chariots rank'd in loose array ; 

So wide they stood, and like a furnace mouth 

Cast forth redounding smoke and ruddy flame. 

Before their eyes in sudden view appear 

The secrets of the hoary deep, a dark 

Illimitable ocean, without bound. 

Without dimension, where length, breadth, and highth, 

And time and place are lost ; where eldest Night 

And Chaos, ancestors of Nature, hold 

Eternal anarchy amidst the noise 

Of endless wars, and by confusion stand : 

For hot, cold, moist, and di-y, four champions fierce, 

Strive here for mast'ry, and to battle bring 

Their embryon atoms ; thev around the flag 

Of each his faction, in their several clans, 

Light-arm' d or heavy, sharp, smooth, swift, or slow, 

Swarm populous, unnumber'd as the sands 

Of Barca or Cyrene's torrid soil. 

Levied to side'with warring winds, and poise 

Their lighter wings. To whom these most adhere, 

He rules a moment ; Chaos umpire sits. 

And by decision more embroils the fray 

By which he reigns : next him high arbiter 

Chance governs all. Into this wild abyss. 

The womb of nature and perhaps her grave, 

Of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire. 

But all these in their pregnant causes mix'd 

Confus'dly, and which thus must ever fight. 

Unless th' almighty Maker them ordain 

His dark materials to create more worlds ; 

Into this wild abyss the wary fiend 

Stood on the brink of hell, and look'd a while, 

Pondering his voyage ; for no narrow frith 

He had to cross. Nor was his ear less peal'd 

With noises loud and ruinous, to compare 

Great things with small, than when Bellona storms, 

With all her battering engines bent to rase 

Some capital city ; or less than if this frame 

Of heav'n were falling, and these elements 

In mutiny had from her axle torn 

The stedfast earth. At last his sail-broad vanes 



/,>\ 



I 



''I? 






38 



PARADISE LOST. 







<■,-* 




He spreads for flight, and in the surging smoke 

Uplifted spurns the ground ; thence many a league 

As in a clouded chair ascending rides 

Audacious ; but, that seat soon failing, meet3 

A vast vacuity : all unawares 

Flutt'ring his pennons vain plumb down he drops 

Ten thousand fathom deep, and to this hour 

Down had been falling, had not by ill chance 

The strong rebuff of some tumultuous cloud 

Instinct with fire and nitre hurried him 

As many miles aloft : that fury stay'd, 

Quenched in a boggy Syrtis, neither sea, 

Nor good dry land : nigh foundered on he fares. 

Treading the crude consistence, half on foot, 

Half flying; behoves him now both oar and sail. 

As when a gryphon through the wilderness 

With winged course o'er hill or moory dale 

Pursues the Arimaspian, who by stealth 

Had from his wakeful custody purloin'd 

The guarded gold : so eagerly the fiend 

O'er bog or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare, 

With head, hands, wings, or feet, pursues his way, 

And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies. 

At length a universal hubbub wild 

Of stunning sounds and voices all confused, 

Borne through the hollow dark, assaults his ear 

With loudest vehemence : thither he plies, 

Undaunted to meet there whatever power 

Or spirit of the nethermost abyss 

Might in that noise reside, of whom to ask 

Which way the nearest coast of darkness lies, 

Bordering on light ; when straight behold the throne 

Of Chaos, and his dark pavilion spread 

Wide on the wasteful Deep : with him enthroned 

Sat sable-vested Night, eldest of things. 

The consort of his reign ; and by them stood 

Orcus and Ades, and the dreaded name 

Of Demogorgon ; Rumor next, and Chance, 

And Tumult, and Confusion, all imbroil'd, 

And Discord with a thousand various mouths. 

T' whom Satan turning boldly, thus. — Ye Powers, 

And Spirits of this nethermost abyss. 

Chaos and ancient Night, I come no spy. 

With purpose to explore or to disturb 

The secrets of your realm ; but b}- constraint, 

Wand'ring this darksome desert, as my way 

Lies through your spacious empire up to light. 

Alone, and without guide, half lost, I seek 

Whit readiest path leads where your gloomy bounds 

Confine with heav'n ; or if some other place, 





PARADISE LOST. 



39 






\\:V, 






From your dominion won, tli' ethereal King 
Possesses lately, thither to arrive 
I travel this profound ; direct my course ; 
Directed, no mean recompense it brings 
To vour behoof, if I that region lost, 
\irusurpation thence expell'd, reduce 
To her original darkness and your sway, 
Which is my present journey, and once more 
Erect the standard there of ancient Night ; 
Yours be th' advantage all, mine the revenge. 
Thus Satan ; and him thus the Anarch old. 
With falt'ring speech and visage mcomposed, 
\nswer'd. I know thee, stranger, who thou art, 
That mighty leading angel, who of late 
Made heldlgainst heav'n's King, though overthrown. 
I saw and heard ; for such a numerous host 
Fled not in silence through the frighted deep, 
W'ith ruin upon ruin, rout on rout. 
Confusion worse confounded ; and heav n gates 
Pour'd out by millions her victorious bands 
Pursuing. I upon my frontiers here 
Keep residence ; if all I can will serve. 
That little which is left so to defend, 
Encroach'd on still through your "itestine broils 
Weak'ning the sceptre of old Night: first hell 
Your dunfeon, stretching far and wide beneath ; 
Now lately heaven and earth, another world, 
Hung o'er my realm, link'd in a golden chain 
To that side heav'n from whence your legions fell . 
If that way be your walk, you have not far ; 
So much the nearer danger : go and speea , 
Havock, and spoil, and ruin are my gam 

He ceased ; and Satan stay' d not to reply, 
But glad that now his sea should find a shore, 
With fresh alacrity and force renew d 
Springs upward, like a pyramid of fire, 
fnto the wild expanse, and through the shock 
Of ficrhting elements, on all sides round 
Euvi?on'd, wins his way ; harder beset 
And more endangered, than when Argo pass d _ 
Through Bosphorus bet^nxt the justlmg rocks . 
Or when Ulysses on the larboard shunned 
Charv'bdis, and by th' other whirlpool steer d. 
So he with difficulty and labour hard 
Moved on, with difficulty and labour he ; 
But he once past, soon after when man tell. 
Strange alteration ! Sin and Death amam 
Following his track, such was the will of Heav n. 
Paved after him a broad and beaten way 
Over the dark abyss, whose boiling gult 






40 



PARADISE LOST. 



m ;V^\ 



»' 



'^hl 



Tamely endured a bridge of wond'rous length, 

From hell continued, reaching th' utmost orb 

Of this frail world ; by which the spirits perverse 

With easy intercourse pass to and fro 

To tempt or punish mortals, except whom 

God and good Angels guard by special grace. 

But now at last the sacred influence 

Of light appears, and from the walls of heav'n 

Shoots far into the bosom of dim Night 

A glimmering dawn : here Nature first begins 

Her farthest verge, and Chaos to retire 

As from her outmost works, a broken foe, 

With tumult less and with less hostile din, 

That Satan with less toil and now with ease 

Wafts on the calmer wave by dubious light. 

And like a weather-beaten vessel holds 

Gladly the port, though shrouds and tackle torn ; 

Or in the emptier waste, resembling air. 

Weighs his spread wings, at leisure to behold 

Far off th' empyreal heav'n, extended wide 

In circuit, undetermined square or round. 

With opal towers and battlements adorn'd 

Of living sapphire, once his native seat ; 

And fast by hanging in a golden chain 

This pendant world, in bigness as a star 

Of smallest magnitude close by the moon. 

Thither full fraught with mischievous revenge 

Accursed, and in a cursed hour, he hies. 




[1' 'II' 
'// / 



iM\ 






PARADISE LOST. 



41 



Mf 






lllili 



BOOK III. 



The Argument. 



i;:^ 



God sitting on his throne sees Satan flying towards this world, 
then newly created : shows him to the Son, who sat at his right 
hand ; foretells the success of Satan in perverting mankind ; clears 
his own justice and wisdom from all imputation, having created Man 
free, and able enough to have withstood his tempter ; yet declares 
his purpose of grace towards him, in regard he fell not of his own 
malice, as did Satan, but by him seduced. The Son of God renders 
praises to his Father for the manifestation of his gracious purpose 
towards Man ; but God again declares, that grace cannot be extended 
towards Man without the satisfaction of divine justice ; Man hath 
offended the majesty of God by aspiring to Godhead, and therefore 
with all his progeny devoted to death must die, unless some one 
can be found sufficient to answer for his offence, and undergo his 
punishment. The Son of God freely offers himself a ransom for 
Man ; the Father accepts him, ordains his incarnation, pronounces 
his exaltation above all names in heaven and, earth ; commands all 
the Angels to adore him ; they obe}', and hymning to their harps 
in full choir, celebrate the Father and the Son. Meanwhile Satan 
alights upon the bare convex of this world's outermost orb ; where 
wandering he first finds a place, since called the Limbo of Vanity ; 
what persons and things fly up thither; thence comes to the gate 
of heaven, described ascending^ by stairs, and the waters above 
the firmament that flow about it : his passage thence to the orb of 
the sun; he finds there Uriel the regent of that orb; but first 
changes himself into the shape of a meaner angel ; and pretending 
a zealous desire to behold the new creation, and Man whom God 
had placed here, inquires of him the place of his habitation, and 
is directed ; alights first on Mount Niphates. 



Hail holy ligiit, oflfspring of heav'n first-bom 

Or of th' Eternal co-eternal beam 

May I express the unblamed ? since God is light, 

And never but in unapproached light 

Dwelt from eternity, dwelt then in thee, 

Bright effluence of bright essence increate. 

Or hear'st thou rather pure ethereal stream, 

WTiose fountain who shall tell ? before the sun, 

Before the heavens thou wert, and at the voice 

Of God, as with a mantle, didst invest 

The rising world of waters dark and deep, 

Won from the void and formless infinite. 

Thee I revisit now with bolder wing. 

Escaped the Stygian pool, though long detain'd 

In that obscure sojourn, while in my flight 

Through utter and through middle darkness borne, 

With other notes, than to th' Orphean lyre, 

I sung of Chaos and eternal Night, 






42 



PARADISE LOST. 



''Ifll 



V{^ 





Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down 

The dark descent, and up to reascend, 

Though hard and rare : thee I re\nsit safe, 

And feel thy sov' reign vital lamp ; but thou 

Revisit'st not these eyes, that roll in vain 

To find thy piercing ray, and find no dawn ; 

So thick a drop serene hath quench'd their orbs. 

Or dim suffusion veil'd. Yet not the more 

Cease I to wander where the Muses haunt 

Clear spring, or shady grove, or sunny hill, 

Smit with the love of sacred song ; but chief 

Thee Sion, and the flowery brooks beneath, 

That wash thy hallow'd feet, and warbling flow, 

Nightly I visit ; nor sometimes forget 

Those other two equall'd with me in fate. 

So were I equall'd with them in renown, 

Blind Thamyris and blind Mseonides, 

And Tiresias and Phineus prophets old. 

Then feed on thoughts, that voluntary move 

Harmonious numbers ; as the wakeful bird 

Sings darkling, and in shadiest covert hid 

Tunes her nocturnal note : thus with the year 

Seasons return, but not to me returns 

Day, or the sweet approach of even or mom. 

Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose. 

Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine ; 

But cloud instead, and ever-during dark 

Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men 

Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair 

Presented with a universal blank 

Of nature's works to me expunged and rased. 

And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out. 

So much the rather thou celestial Light 

Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers 

Irradiate, there plant eyes, all mist from thence 

Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell 

Of things invisible to mortal sight. 

Now had the Almighty Father from above, 
From the pure empyrean where he sits 
High throned above all highth, bent down his eye, 
His own works and their works at once to view. 
About him all the sanctities of heaven 
Stood thick as stars, and from his sight received 
Beatitude past utterance ; on his right 
The radiant image of his glory sat, 
His only Son : on earth He first beheld 
Our two first parents, yet the only two 
Of mankind, in the happy garden placed. 
Reaping immortal fruits of joy and love. 
Uninterrupted joy, unrivall'd love. 




4- 



J 





c^lr^ 



PARADISE LOST. 



43 



In blissful solitude : He then survey'd 

Hell and the gulf between, and Satan there 

Coasting the wall of heav'n on this side night 

In the dun air sublime, and ready now 

To stoop with wearied wings, and willing feet 

On the bare outside of this world, that seem'd 

Firm land imbosoni'd without firmament, 

Uncertain which, in ocean or in air. 

Him God beholding from His prospect high, 

Wherein past, present, future, He beholds, 

Thus to His only Son foreseeing spake. 

Only begotten Son, seest thou what rage 
Transports our adversary, whom no bounds 
Prescribed, no bars of hell, nor all the chains 
Heap'd on him there, nor yet the main abyss 
Wide interrupt, can hold, so bent he seems 
On desperate revenge, that shall redound 
Upon his own rebellious head. And now 
Through all restraint broke loose he wings his way 
Not far off heav'n, in the precincts of light, 
Directly towards the new created world, 
And man there placed, with purpose to assay 
If him by force he can destroy, or worse. 
By some false guile pervert ; and shall pen^ert ; 
For man will harken to his glozing lies, 
And easily transgress the sole command. 
Sole pledge of his obedience : so will fall 
He and his faithless progeny. Whose fault? 
Whose but his own? ingrate, he had of me 
All he could have : I made him just and right, 
Sufficient to have stood, though free to fall. 
Such I created all th' ethereal Powers 
And Spirits, both them who stood and them who fail d : 
Freely they stood who stood, and fell who fell. 
Not free, what proof could they have given sincere 
Of true allegiance, constant faith, or love. 
Where only, what they needs must do, appear'u, 
Not what they would ? what praise could they receive t 
What pleasure I from such obedience paid. 
When will and reason, reason also is choice, 
Useless and vain, of freedom both despoil'd. 
Made passive both, had served necessity. 
Not me ? They therefore, as to right belong'd. 
So were created, nor can justly accuse 
Their Maker, or their making, or their fate ; 
As if predestination over-ruled 
Their will, disposed by absolute decree 
Or high foreknowledge : they themselves decreed 
Their own revolt, not I : if I foreknew, 
Foreknowledge had no influence on their fault, 




44 



PARADISE LOST. 



L#^ 




Which had no less proved certain unforeknown. 
So without least impulse or shadow of fate, 
Or aught by me immutably foreseen, 
They trespass, authors to themselves in all. 
Both what they judge and what they choose ; for so 
I form'd them free, and free they must remain, 
Till they enthrall themselves ; I else must change 
Their nature, and revoke the high decree, 
Unchangeable, eternal, which ordain'd 
Their freedom ; they themselves ordain'd their fall. 
The first sort by their own suggestion fell, 
Self-tempted, self-depraved : man falls deceived 
By the other first : man therefore shall find grace. 
The other none : in merc}' and justice both. 
Through heav'n and earth, so shall my glory excel ; 
But mercy first and last shall brightest shine. 

Thus while God spake, ambrosial fragrance fiU'd 
All heav'n, and in the blessed spirits elect 
Sense of new joy ineffable diffused. 
Beyond compare the Son of God was seen 
Most glorious, in him all his Father shone 
Substantially express' d, and in his face 
Divdne compassion visibly appear'd, 
Ivove vdthout end, and without measure grace ; 
Which uttering thus he to his Father spake. 

O Father, gracious was that word which closed 
Thy sov'reign sentence, that man shall find grace ; 
For which both heav'n and earth shall high extol 
Thy praises, with th' innumerable sound 
Of hymns and sacred songs, wherewith thy throne 
Fncompass'd shall resound thee ever blest. 
For should man finally be lost, should man 
Thy creature late so loved, thy youngest son. 
Fall circumvented thus by fraud, though join'd 
With his own folly ? that be from thee far. 
That far be from thee. Father, who art judge 
Of all things made, and judgest only right. 
Or shall the adversary thus obtain 
His end, and frustrate thine ? shall he fulfil 
His malice, and thy goodness bring to naught, 
Or proud return though to his heavier doom. 
Yet with revenge accomplish 'd, and to hell 
Draw after him the whole race of mankind, 
By him corrupted ? or wilt thou thyself 
Abolish thy creation, and immake. 
For him, what for thy glory thou hast made ? 
So should thy goodness and thy greatness both 
Be question'd and blasphemed without defence. 

To whom the great Creator thus replied. 
O Son, in whom my soul hath chief delight, 




fe 




^/j^^/lSSS, 



?'*1^ 






PARADISE LOST. 

Son of my bosom, Sou who art alone 

My word, my wisdom, and effectual might. 

All hast thou spoken as my thoughts are, all 

As my eternal purpose hath decreed : 

Man shall not quite be lost, but saved who \nll, 

Vet not of will in him, but grace in me 

Freely vouchsafed : once more I will renew 

His lapsed powers, though forfeit and enthrall'd 

By sin to foul exorbitant desires : 

Upheld b}^ me, j^et once more he shall stand 

On even groimd against his mortal foe, 

By me upheld, that he may know how frail 

His fall'n condition is, and to me owe 

All his deliv' ranee, and to none but me. 

Some I have chosen of peculiar grace 

Elect above the rest ; so is my will : 

The rest shall hear me call, and oft be warn'd 

Their sinful state, and to appease betimes 

Th' incensed Deity, while offer'd grace 

In\ates ; for I will clear their senses dark. 

What may suffice, and soften stony hearts 

To pray, repent, and bring obedience due. 

To prayer, repentance, and obedience due. 

Though but endeavour'd with sincere intent. 

Mine ear shall not be slow, mine eye not shut. 

And I will place within them as a guide 

My umpire Conscience, whom if they will hear, 

Light after light well used they shall attain. 

And to the end persisting safe arrive. 

This my long sufferance and my day of grace 

The}' who neglect and scorn shall never taste ; 

But hard be harden' d, blind be blinded more, 

That they may stumble on, and deeper fall ; 

And none but such from mercy I exclude. 

But 3'et all is not done ; man disobeying 

Disloyal breaks his fealty, and sins 

Against the high supremacy of heav'n. 

Affecting Godhead, and so losing all. 

To expiate his treason hath naught left, 

But to destruction sacred and devote. 

He with his whole posterity must die ; 

Die he or justice must ; unless for him 

Some other able, and as willing, pay 

The rigid satisfaction, death for death. 

Saj-, heav'nly Powers, where shall we find such love? 

Which of you will be mortal to redeem 

Man's mortal crime, and just th' unjust to save? 

Dwells in all heaven charity so dear? 

He ask'd, but all the heav'nly choir stood mute. 
And silence was in heav'n : on man's behalf 



45 







f 





46 PARADISE LOST. 

Patron or intercessor none appear'd, 
Much lest that durst upon his own head draw 
The deadly forfeiture, and ransom set. 
And now without redemption all mankind 
Must have been lost, adjudged to death and hell 
By doom severe, had not the Son of God, 
In whom the fulness dwells of love divine. 
His dearest mediation thus renew'd. 

Father, thy word is pass'd, man shall find grace ; 
And shall grace not find means, that finds her way, 
The speediest of thy wing'd messengers, 
To visit all thy creatures, and to all 
Comes unprevented, unimplored, unsought ? 
Happy for man, so coming ; he her aid 
Can never seek, once dead in sins and lost ; 
Atonement for himself or offering meet. 
Indebted and undone, hath none to bring. 
Behold me then, me for him, life for life, 
I offer, on me let thine anger fall ; 
Account me man ; I for his sake will leave 
Thy bosom, and this glory next to thee 
Freely put off, and for him lastly die 
Well pleased ; on me let Death wreak all his rage; 
Under his gloomy power I shall not long 
L,ie vanquish'd ; thou hast given me to possess 
Life in myself for ever, by thee I live. 
Though now to Death I yield, and am his due 
All that of me can die ; yet that debt paid, 
Thou wilt not leave me in the loathsome grave 
His prey, nor suffer my unspotted soul 
For ever with corruption there to dwell : 
But I shall rise victorious, and subdue 
My vanquisher, spoil'd of his vaunted spoil ; 
Death his death's wound shall then receive, and stoop 
Inglorious, of his mortal sting disarm'd 
I through the ample air in triumph high 
Shall lead hell captive maugre hell, and show 
The powers of darkness bound. Thou, at the sight 
Pleased, out of heaven shalt look down and smile, 
While by thee raised I ruin all my foes. 
Death last, and with his carcase glut the grave : 
Then with the multitude of my redeem'd 
Shall enter heaven long absent, and return. 
Father, to see thy face, wherein no cloud 
Of anger shall remain, but peace assured 
And reconcilement : wrath shall be no more 
Thenceforth, but in thy presence joy entire. ^ 

His words here ended, but his meek aspect ^^ 

Silent yet spake, and breathed immortal love 
To mortal men. above which only shone 





mil' 






PARADISE LOST. 

Filial obedience : as a sacrifice 

Glad to be ofFer'd, he attends the will 

Of his great Father. Admiration seized 

All heav'n, what this might mean and whither tend 

Wond'ring ; but soon th' Alm.ighty thus reply'd : 

O thou in heav'n and earth the only peace 
Found out for mankind under wrath, O thou 
My sole complacence ! well thou know'st how dear 
To me are all my works, nor man the least, 
Though last created, that for him I spare 
Thee from my bosom and right hand, to save, 
By losing thee awhile, the whole race lost. 
Thou therefore whom thou only canst redeem 
Their nature also to thy nature joi-n ; 
And be thyself man among men on earth. 
Made flesh, when time shall be, of virgin seed 
By wondrous birth : be thou in Adam's room 
The head of all mankind, though Adam's son. 
As in him perish all men, so in thee. 
As from a second, root, shall be restored. 
As many as are restored, without thee none. 
His crime makes guilty all his sons ; thy merit 
Imputed shall absolve them who renounce 
Their own both righteous and unrighteous deeds, 
And live in thee transplanted, and from thee 
Receive new life. So man, as is most just, 
Shall satisfy for man, be judged and die ; 
And dying rise, and rising with him raise 
His brethren, ransom'd with his own dear life. 
So heav'nly love shall outdo hellish hate 
Gixnng to death, and dying to redeem ; 
So dearly to redeem what hellish hate 
So easily destroy'd, and still destroys 
In those who, when they may, accept not grace. 
Nor shalt thou by descending to assume 
Man's nature lessen or degrade thine own. 
Because thou hast, though throned in highest bliss 
Equal to God, and equally enjoying 
God-like frviition, quitted all to save 
A world from utter loss, and hast been found 
By merit more than birthright Son of GoD, 
Found worthiest to be so by being good. 
Far more than great or high ; because in thee 
Love hath abounded more than glory abounds ; 
Therefore thy humiliation shall exalt 
With thee thy manhood also to this throne ; 
Here shalt thou sit incarnate, here shalt reign 
Both God and Man, Son both of God and Man, 
Anointed universal king ; all power 
I give thee, reign for ever, and assume 



47 



4 




-,"^. 





,' 4feit^agI3s i-' 



48 



PARADISE LOST. 



^ 
^ 







Thy merits ; under thee as head supreme 

Thrones, Princedoms, Powers, Dominions, I reduce : 

All knees to thee shall bow, of them that bide 

In heav'n, or earth, or under earth in hell ; 

When thou attended gloriously from heav'n 

Shalt in the sky appear, and from thee send 

The summoning archangels to proclaim 

Thy dread tribunal : forthwith from all winds 

The living, and forthwith the cited dead 

Of all past ages, to the general doom 

Shall hasten, such a peal shall rouse their sleep. 

Then, all thy saints assembled, thou shalt judge 

Bad men and angels ; they arraign'd shall sink 

Beneath thy sentence ; hell, her numbers full. 

Thenceforth shall be for ever shut. Meanwhile 

The world shall burn, and from her ashes spring 

New heav'n and earth, wherein the just shall dwell, 

And after all their tribulations long 

See golden days, fruitful of golden deeds, 

With joy and love triumphing, and fair truth : 

Then thou thy regal sceptre shalt lay by. 

For regal sceptre then no more shall need, 

God shall be all in all. But all ye Gods 

Adore him, who to compass all this dies. 

Adore the Son, and honour him as me. 

No sooner had th' Almighty ceased, but all 
The multitude of angels with a shout, 
Loud as from numbers without number, sweet 
As from blest voices, uttering joy, heav'n rung 
With jubilee, and loud hosaunas fill'd 
Th' eternal regions. Lowly reverent 
Towards either throne they bow, and to the ground 
With solemn adoration down they cast 
Their crowns inwove with amarant and gold. 
Immortal auiarant, a flow'r which once 
In Paradise fast by the Tree of Life 
Began to bloom, but soon for man's offence 
To heav'n removed, where first it grew, there grows. 
And flow'rs aloft shading the fount of life. 
And where the river of bliss through midst of heav'n 
Rolls o'er Elysian flowers her amber stream ; 
With these that never fade the spirits elect 
Bind their resplendent locks inwreath'd with beams ; 
Now in loose garlands thick thrown off ; the bright 
Pavement, that like a sea of jasper shone, 
Impurpled with celestial roses smiled. 
Then crown 'd again their golden harps they took. 
Harps ever tuned, that glittering by their side 
Like quivers hung, and with preamble sweet 
Of charming symphony they introduce 





"Heav'n ruitg 
With jubilee, and loud hosannas fill d 
Th' eternal regions,"— Book. III., lines 347-349- 




I 



I i\ 




\\\ 






^-s 



PARADISE LOST. 

Their sacred song, and waken raptures high ; 
No voice exempt, no voice but well could join 
Melodious part, such concord is in heav'n. 

Thee Father first they sung, Omnipotent, 
Immutable, Immortal, Infinite, 
Eternal King ; Thee author of all being, 
Fountain of light, Thyself invisible 
Amidst the glorious brightness where Thou sitt'st 
Throned inaccessible, but when Thou shad'st 
The full blaze of Thy beams, and through a cloud 
Drawn round about Thee like a radiant shrine, 
Dark with excessive bright Thy skirts appear ; 
Yet dazzle heav'n, that brightest Seraphim 
Approach not, but with both wings veil their eyes. 
Thee next they sang of all creation first, 
Begotten Son, Divine Similitude, 
In whose conspicuous count'uance, without cloud 
Made visible, the Almighty Father shines, 
Whom else no creature can behold : on Thee 
Impress'd th' effulgence of His glory abides ; 
Transfused on Thee his ample Spirit rests. 
He heav'n of heavens and all the powers therein 
By Thee created, and by Thee threw down 
Th' aspiring Dominations. Thou that day 
Thy Father's dreadful thunder didst not spare, 
Nor stop thy flaming chariot wheels, that shook 
Heav'n's everlasting frame, while o'er the necks 
Thou drov'st of warring angels disarray'd. 
Back from pursuit Thy powers with loud acclaim 
Thee only extoll'd. Son of Thy F'ather's might, 
To execute fierce vengeance on his foe 
Not so on man ; him thro' their malice fall'n, 
Father of mercy and grace, Thou didst not doom 
So strictly ; but much more to pity incline. 
No sooner did Thy dear and only Son 
Perceive thee purposed not to doom frail man 
So strictly, but much more to pity inclined. 
He to appease Thy wrath, and end the strife 
Of mercy and justice in Thy face discem'd, 
Regardless of the bliss wherein He sat 
vSecond to Thee, offer'd himself to die 
For man's offence. O unexampled love, 
Love nowhere to be found less than Divine ! 
Hail Son of God, Saviour of men. Thy name 
Shall be the copious matter of my song 
Henceforth, and never shall my harp thy praise 
Forget, nor from thy Father's praise disjoin. 

Thus they in heav'n, above the starry sphere, 
Their happy hours in joy and hymning spent. 
Meanwhile upon the firm opacous globe 



49 




'T 




50 



PARADISE LOST. 



-\/v: 





Of this round world, whose first convex divides 

The luminous inferior orbs, inclosed 

From Chaos and th' inroad of Darkness old, 

Satan alighted walks : a globe far off 

It seem'd, now seems a boundless continent. 

Dark, waste, and wild, under the frown of night 

Starless exposed, and evcr-threat'ning storms 

Of Chaos blust'ring round, inclement sky ; 

Save on that side which from the wall of heav'n 

Though distant far some small reflection gains 

Of glimmering air, less vex'd with tempest loud 

Here walk'd the fiend at large in spacious field. 

As when a vulture on Imaus bred. 

Whose snowy ridge the roving Tartar bounds. 

Dislodging from a region scarce of prey 

To gorge the flesh of lambs or yeanling kids 

On hills where flocks are fed, flies toward the springs 

Of Ganges or Hydaspes, Indian streams ; 

But in his way lights on the barren plains 

Of Sericana, where Chineses drive 

With sails and vrind their cany waggons light : 

So on this windy sea of land the fiend 

Walk'd up and down alone bent on his prey. 

Alone, for other creature in this place 

Living or lifeless to be found was none. 

None yet, but store hereafter from the earth 

Up hither like aerial vapours flew 

Of all things transitory and vain, when sin 

With vanity had fill'd the Works of men : 

Both all things vain, and all who in vain things 

Built their fond hopes of glory or lasting fame. 

Or happiness in this or th' other life ; 

All who have their reward on earth, the fruits 

Of painful superstition and blind zeal. 

Nought seeking but the praise of men, here find 

Fit retribution, empty as their deeds : 

All th' unacconiplish'd works of nature's hand, 

Abortive, monstrous, or unkindly mix'd, 

Dissolved on earth, fleet hither, and in vain, 

Till final dissolution, wander here, 

Not in the neighb'ring moon, as some have dream'd ; 

Those argent fields more likely habitants. 

Translated saints, or middle spirits hold 

Betwixt th' angelical and human kind : 

Hither of ill-join'd sons and daughters born 

First from the ancient world those giants came 

With many a vain exploit, though then renown'd : 

The builders next of Babel on the plain 

Of Sennar, and still with vain design 

New Babels, had they wherewithal, would build. 





PARADISE LOST. 



51 



\m\ 



Others came single ; lie who to be deeni'd 

A God leap'd fondly into ^ijtna flames, 

Empedocles, and he who to enjoy 

Plato's Elysium leap'd into the sea, 

Cleombrotus, and many more too long, 

Embryoes and idiots, eremites and friars. 

White, black, and grey, with all their trumpery. 

Here pilgrims roam, that stray'd so far to seek 

In Golgotha him dead, who lives in heav'n ; 

And they who to be sure of paradise 

Dying put on the weeds of Dominic, 

Or in Franciscan think to pass disguised ; 

They pass the planets seven, and pass the fix'd. 

And that crystalline sphere whose balance weighs 

The trepidation talk'd, and that first moved : 

And now Saint Peter at heav'n's wicket seems 

To wait them with his keys, and now at foot 

Of heav'n's ascent they lift their feet, when, lo ! 

A violent cross wind from either coast 

Blows them transverse ten thousand leagues awry 

Into the devious air ; then might ye see 

Cowls, hoods, and habits with their wearers tost 

And flutter'd into rags ; then reliques, beads, 

Indulgences, dispenses, pardons, bulls. 

The sport of winds : all these upwhirl'd aloft 

Fly o'er the back side of the world far off, 

Into a limbo large and broad, since call'd 

The Paradise of Fools, to few unknown 

Long after, now unpeopled, and untrod. 

All this dark globe the fiend found as he pass'd, 

And long he wander'd, till at last a gleam 

Of dawning light turn'd thitherward in haste 

His traveird steps ; far distant he descries, 

Ascending by degrees magnificent 

Up to the wall of heav'n a structure high. 

At top whereof, but far more rich appear'd 

The work as of a kingly palace gate. 

With frontispiece of diamond and gold 

Imbellish'd ; thick with sparkling orient gems 

The portal shone, inimitable on earth 

By model or by shading pencil drawn. 

The stairs were such as whereon Jacob saw 

Angels ascending and descending, bands 

Of guardians bright, when he from Esau fled 

To Padan-Aram in the field of Luz, 

Dreaming by night under the open sky. 

And waking cried, This is the ^ate of heai'^n. 

Each stair mysteriously was meant, nor stood 

There always, but drawn up to heav'n sometimes 

Viewless, and underneath a bright sea flow'd 






^M\ 






52 



PARADISE LOST. 



Of jasper, or of liquid pearl, whereon 

Who after came frota earth sailing arrived 

Wafted by angels, or flew o'er the lake, 

Rapt in a chariot drawn by fiery steeds. 

The stairs were then let down, whether to dare 

The fiend by easy ascent, or aggravate 

His sad exclusion from the doors of bliss : 

Direct against which open'd from beneath, 

Just o'er the blissful seat of paradise, 

A passage down to th' earth, a passage wide, 

W^ider by far than that of after-times 

Over mount Sion, and, though that were large, 

Over the Promised Land to God so dear, 

By which, to visit oft those happy tribes. 

On high behests his angels to and fro 

Pass'd frequent, and his eye with choice regard. 

From Paneas, the fount of Jordan's flood. 

To Beersaba, where the Holy Land 

Borders on JEgypt and the Arabian shore : 

So wide the op'ning seem'd, where bounds were set 

To darkness, such as bound the ocean wave. 

Satan from hence now on the lower stair. 

That scaled by steps of gold to heaven gate, 

Looks down with wonder at the sudden view 

Of all this world at once. As when a scout 

Through dark and desert ways with peril gone 

All night, at last by break of cheerful dawn 

Obtains the brow of some high-climbing hill, 

Which to his eye discovers unaware 

The goodly prospect of some foreign land 

First-seen, or some renown'd metropolis. 

With glistering spires and pinnacles adorn'd, 

Which now the rising sun gilds with his beams : 

Such wonders seized, though after heaven seen, 

The spirit malign ; but much more envy seized 

At sight of all this world beheld so fair. 

Round he surveys, and well might, where he stood 

So high above the circling canopy 

Of night's extended shade, from eastern point 

Of Libra to the fleecy star that bears 

Andromeda far off Atlantic seas 

Beyond th' horizon : then from pole to pole 

He views in breadth, and without longer pause 

Down right into the world's first region throws 

His flight precipitant, and winds with ease 

Through the pure marble air his oblique waj- 

Amongst innumerable stars, that shone 

Stars distant, but nigh hand seem'd other worlds, 

Or other worlds they seem'd, or happy isles. 

Like those Hesperian gardens famed of old, 




II ^ 





3 




PARADISE LOST. 



53 






h 



Fortunate fields, and groves, and flow'ry vales, 

Thrice happy isles ; but who dwelt happy there 

He stay'd not to enquire : above them all 

The golden sun in splendour likest heaven 

Allured his eye : thither his course he bends 

Through the calm firmament ; but up or down, 

By centre or eccentric, hard to tell. 

Or longitude, w'here the great luniinarj', 

Aloof the vulgar constellations thick, 

That from his lordly eye keep distance due, 

Dispenses light from far ; they as they move 

Their starry dance in numbers that compute 

Days, months, and years, towards his all-cheering lamp 

Turn swift their various motions, or are tum'd 

By his magnetic beam, that gently warms 

The universe, and to each inward part 

With gentle penetration, though unseen, 

Shoots invisible virtue even to the deep ; 

So wond'rously, was set his station bright. 

There lands the fiend, a spot like which perhaps 

Astronomer in the sun's lucent orb 

Through his glazed optic tube yet never saw. 

The place he found beyond expression bright. 

Compared with aught on earth, metal or stone ; 

Not all parts like, but all alike inform'd 

With radiant light, as glowing iron with fire ; 

If metal, part seem'd gold, part silver clear ; 

If stone, carbuncle most or chrysolite, 

Ruby or topaz, to the twelve that shone 

In Aaron's breast-plate, and a stone besides 

Imagined rather oft than elsewhere seen, 

That stone, or like to that which here below 

Philosophers in vain so long have sought, 

In vain, though by their powerful art they bind 

Volatile Hermes, and call up unbound 

In various shapes old Proteus from the sea. 

Drain 'd through a limbeck to his native form. 

What wonder then if fields and regions here 

Breathe forth elixir pure, and rivers run 

Potable gold, when with one virtuous touch 

Th' arch-chemic sun so far from us remote 

Produces with terrestrial humour mix'd 

Here in the dark so many precious things 

Of colour glorious and effect so rare ? 

Here matter new to gaze the devil met 

Undazzled, far and wide his eye commands, 

For sight no obstacle found here, nor shade. 

But all sun-shine ; as when his beams at noon 

Culminate from th' Eqiiator, as they now 

Shot upward still direct, whence no wa}- round 






54 



PARADISE LOST. 



¥k- 







Shadow from body opaque can fall, and the air, 

Nowhere so clear, sharpen'd his visual ray 

To objects distant far, whereby he soon 

Saw within ken a glorious angel stand. 

The same whom John saw also in the sun : 

His back was turn'd, but not his brightness hid ; 

Of beaming sunny rays, a golden tiar 

Circled his head, nor less his locks behind 

Illustrious on his shoulders fledge with wings 

Lay waving round ; on some great charge employ'd 

He seem'd, or fix'd in cogitation deep. 

Glad was the spirit impure, as now in hope 

To find who might direct his wand'ring flight 

To paradise the happy seat of man, 

His journej^'s end, and our beginning woe. 

But first he casts to change his proper shape, 

Which else might work him danger or delay : 

And now a stripling Cherub he appears. 

Not of the prime, yet such as in his face 

Youth smiled celestial, and to every limb 

Suitable grace diffused, so well he feign'd ; 

Under a coronet his flowing hair 

In curls on either cheek play'd ; wings he wore 

Of many a colour' d plume sprinkled with gold ; 

His habit fit for speed succinct, and held 

Before his decent steps a silver wand. 

He drew not nigh unheard, the angel bright. 

E'er he drew nigh, his radiant visage turn'd. 

Admonish' d, by his ear, and straight was known 

Th' arch-angel Uriel, one of the sev'n 

Who in God's presence nearest to his throne 

Stand ready at command, and are his eyes 

That run through all the heav'ns, or down to th' earth 

Bear his swift errands, over moist and dry, 

O'er sea and land : him Satan thus accosts. 

Uriel, for thou of those sev'n spirits that stand 
In sight of God's high throne, gloriously bright. 
The first art wont his great authentic will 
Interpreter through highest heav n to bring, 
Where all his sons thy embassy attend ; 
And here art likeliest by supreme decree « 

Like honour to obtain, and as His eye 
To visit oft this new creation round ; 
Unspeakable desire to see, and know 
All these his wondrous works, but chiefly man, 
His chief delight and favour, him for whom 
All these his works so wondrous he ordain' d 
Hath brought me from the choirs of Cherubim 
Alone thus wand'ring. Brightest Seraph, tell 
In which of all these shining orbs hath man 




:\ 



E£>^^&W 







PARADISE LOST. 55 

His fixed seat, or fixed seat hath none, 
But all these shining orbs his choice to dwell ; 
That I may find him, and, with secret gaze 
\ Or open admiration, him behold, 

On whom the great Creator hath bestow'd 

Worlds, and on whom hath all these graces pour'd ; 

That both in him and all things, as is meet. 

The universal Maker we may praise ; 

Who justly hath driven out his rebel foes 

To deepest hell, and to repair that loss 

Created this new happy race of men 

To ser\-e him better : w-ise are all his ways. 

So spake the false dissembler unperceived ; 
For neither man nor angel can discern 
Hj'pocrisy, the only evil that walks 
Invisible, except to God alone, 
Bv His permissive will, throtigh heav'n and earth : 
And oft, though wisdom wake, suspicion sleeps 
At wisdom's gate, and to simplicity 
Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill 
Where no ill seems ; which now for once beguiled 
Uriel, though regent of the sun, and held 
The sharpest-sighted spirit of all in heav'n : 
Who to the fraudulent imposter foul 
In his uprightness answer thus retum'd. 

Fair angel, thy desire which tends to know 
The works of God, thereby to glorify 
The great Work-master, leads to no excess 
That reaches blame, but rather merits praise 
The more it seems excess, that led thee hither 
From thy empyreal mansion thus alone, 
To witness with thine eyes what some perhaps 
Contented with report hear only in heav'n : 
For wonderful indeed are all His works. 
Pleasant to know, and worthiest to be all 
Had in remembrance always with delight : 
But what created mind can comprehend 
Their number, or the wisdom infinite 
That brought them forth, but hid their causes deep? 
I saw, when at his word the formless mass. 
This world's material mould, came to a heap : 
Confusion heard his voice, and wild uproar 
Stood ruled, stood vast infinitude confined ; 
Till at his second bidding darkness fled. 
Light shone, and order from disorder sprung. 
Swift to their several quarters hasted then 
The cumbrous elements, earth, flood, air, fire, 
.■\nd this ethereal quintessence of heav'n 
Flew upward, spirited with various forms, 
That roll'd orbicular, and turn'd to stars 





^ir. fefe _^ X^ ~z=-- - ~ 




^ 



(iK/ 



56 



PARADISE L OSr. 



il A. 



Numberless, as thou seest, and how they move ; 

Each had his place appointed, each his course, 

The rest in circuit walls this universe. 

Look downward on that globe whose hither side 

"With light from hence, though but reflected shines ; 

That place is earth the seat of man, that light 

His day, which else as th' other hemisphere 

Night would invade, but there the neighbouring moon, 

So call that opposite fair star, her aid 

Timely interposes, and her monthly round 

Still ending, still renewing, through mid heav'n. 

With borrow'd light her countenance triform 

Hence fills and empties to enlighten th' earth, 

And in her pale dominion checks the night. 

That spot to which I point is paradise, 

Adam's abode, those lofty shades his bow'r : 

Thy way thou canst not miss, me mine requires. 

Thus said, he turn'd, and Satan bowing low. 
As to superior spirits is wont in heaven. 
Where honour due and reverence none neglects, 
Took leave, and toward the coast of earth beneath, 
Down from th' ecliptic, sped with hoped success, 
Throws his steep flight in many an aery wheel, 
Nor stay'd, till on Niphates' top he lights. 








\^^ 










Iv. ■^•«' 



PARADISE LOST. 



57 






i 



BOOK IV. 

The Argument. 

Satan now in prospectof Edeu,and nigh the place where he must 
now attempt the bold enterprise which he undertook alone against 
Gon and man, falls into many doubts with himself, and many 
passions, fear, envy, and despair ; but at length confirms himself iii 
evil, journeys on to paradise, whose outward prospect and situation 
is described, overleaps the bounds, sits in the shape of a cormorant 
on the Tree of L,ite, as the highest in the garden to look about 
him. The garden described ; Satan's first sight of Adam and Eve ; 
his wonder at their excellent form and happy state, but with 
resolution to work their fall : overhears their discourse, theuce 
gathers that the Tree of Knowledge was forbidden them to eat oi, 
under penalty of death ; and thereon intends to found his tempta- 
tion, by seducing them to transgress : then leaves them awhile to 
know further of their state by some other means. Meanwhile 
Uriel descending on a sunbeam warns Gabriel, who had in charge 
the gate of paradise, that some evil spirit had escaped the deep, 
and passed at noon by his sphere in the shape of a good angel 
down to paradise, discovered afterwards hy his furious gestures in 
the mount. Gabriel promises to find him ere morning. Night 
coming on, Adam and Eve discourse of going to their rest : their 
bower described; their evening worship. Gabriel drawing forth his 
bands of nightwatch to walk the round of paradise, appoints two 
strong angels to Adam's bower, lest the evil spirit should be there 
doing some harm to Adam or Eve sleeping ; there they find him at 
the ear of Elve, tempting her in a dream, and bring him, though 
unwilling, to Gabriel ; by whom questioned, he scornfully answers, 
prepares resistance ; but hindered by a sign irom heaven flies out 
of paradise. 




O FOR that warning voice, which he, who saw 
Th' Apocalypse, heard crj^ in heaven aloud, 
Then when the Dragon, put to second rout, 
Came furious down to be revenged on men, 
' ' Woe to the inhabitants on earth ! ' ' that now. 
While time was, ottr first parents had been warn'd 
The coming of their secret foe, and 'scaped, 
Haply so 'scaped his mortal snare ; for now 
/^' Satan, now first inflamed with rage, came down. 

The tempter ere th' accuser of mankind. 
To wreak on innocent frail man his loss 
Of that first battle, and his flight to hell : 
Yet not rejoicing in his speed, thotigh bold, 
Vax oft" and fearless, nor with cause to boast. 
Begins his dire attempt, which, nigh the birth 
Now rolling, boils in his tumultuous breast, 
And like a devilish engine back recoils 
Upon himself; h.orror ar.d doubt distract 






58 



PARADISE LOST. 




m 



His troubled thoughts, and from the bottom stir 

The hell within him, for within him hell 

He brings, and round about him, nor from hell 

One step, no more than from himself, can fly 

By change of place : now conscience wakes despair 

That slumber'd, wakes the bitter memory 

Of what he was, what is, and what must be 

Worse ; of worse deeds worse sutferings must ensue. 

Sometimes towards Eden, which now in his view 

I^ay pleasant, his grieved look he fixes sad ; 

Sometimes tow'ards heav'n and the full-blazing sun, 

Which now sat high in his meridian tow'r : 

Then, much revolving, thus in sighs began. 

O thou that, with surpassing glory crown'd, 
Look'st from thy sole dominion like the God 
Of this new world, at whose sight all the stars 
Hide their diminish'd heads, to thee I call, 
But with no friendly voice, and add thy name 

Sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams. 
That bring to my remembrance from what state 

1 fell, how glorious once above thy sphere ; 
Till pride and worse ambition threw me down, 
Warring in heav'n against heav'n's matchless King. 
Ah, wherefore ! He deserved no such return 

From me, whom He created what I was 

In that bright eminence, and with His good 

Upraided none ; nor was His service hard. 

What could be less than to afford Him praise. 

The easiest recompence, and pay Him thanks. 

How due ! yet all His good proved ill in me, 

And wrought but malice ; lifted up so high 

I sdain'd subjection, and thought one step higher 

Would set me highest, and in a moment quit 

The debt immense of endless gratitude, 

So burthensome, still paying, still to owe ; 

Forgetful what from Him I still received. 

And understood not that a grateful mind 

By owing owes not, but still pays, at once 

Indebted and discharged ; what burden then ? 

O had his powerful destiny ordain'd 

Me some inferior angel, I had stood 

Then happy ; no unbounded hope had raised 

Ambition ! Yet why not? some other power 

As great might have aspired, and me though mean 

Drawn to his part ; but other powers as great 

Fell not, but stand unshaken, from within 

Or from without, to all temptations arm'd. 

Hadst thou the same free will and power to stand ? 

Thou hadst : whom hast thou then or what to accuse, 

But heav'n's free love dealt equally to all ? 



"Ii^ 




^IF%^ 





PARADISE LOST. 59 

Be then His love accursed, since love or hate, 

To me alike, it deals eternal woe : 

Nay cursed be thou ; since against His thy will 

Chose freely what it now so justly rues. 

Me miserable ! which way shall I fly 

Infinite wrath, and infinite despair? 

Which way I fly is hell ; myself am hell ; 

And in the lowest deep a lower deep 

Still threat'ning to devour me opens wide ; 

To which the hell I suffer seems a heav'n. 

O then at last relent : is there no place 

Left for repentance, none for pardon left ? 

None left but by submission ; and that word 

Disdain forbids me, and my dread of shame 

Among the spirits beneath, whom I seduced 

With other promises and other vaunts 

Than to submit, boasting I could subdue 

Th' Omnipotent. Ay me ! they little know 

How dearly I abide that boast so vain, 

Under what torments inwardly I groan ; 

While they adore me on the throne of hell, 

With diadem and sceptre high advanced 

The lower still I fall, only supreme 

In misery ; such joy ambition finds. 

But say I could repent, and could obtain 

By act of grace my former state ; how soon 

Would highth recall high thoughts, how soon unsay 

What feign'd submission swore : ease would recant 

Vows made in pain, as violent and void. 

For never can true reconcilement grow 

Where wounds of deadly hate have pierced so deep ; 

Which would but lead me to a worse relapse 

And heavier fall : so should I purchase dear 

Short intermission bought wdth double smart. 

This knows my Punisher ; therefore as far 

From granting He, as I from begging peace : 

All hope excluded thus, behold in stead 

Of us out-cast, exiled, his new delight, 

Mankind, created, and for him this world. 

So farewell hope, and with hope farewell fear, 

Farewell remorse : all good to me is lost ; 

Evil, be thou my good ; by thee at least 

Divided empire with heav'n 's King I hold. 

By thee, and more than half perhaps will reign ; 

As man ere long and this new world shall know. 

Thus while he spake, each passion dimm'd his face 
Thrice changed with pale ire, envy, and despair, 
Which marr'd his borrow'd visage, and betray'd 
Him counterfeit, if any eye beheld : 
For heav'nly minds from such distempers foul 





6o 



PARADISE LOST. 



V\ 




Are ever clear. Whereof he soon aware 

Each perttarbation smooth'd with outward calm, 

Artificer of fraud ; and was the first 

That practised falsehood under saintly show, 

Deep malice to conceal, couch'd with revenge. 

Yet not enough had practised to deceive 

Uriel once warn'd; whose eye pursued him down 

The way he went, and on th' Assyrian mount 

Saw him disfigured, more than could befall 

Spirit of happy sort : his gestures fierce 

He mark'd and mad demeanour, then alone, 

As he supposed, all unobsen-ed, unseen. 

So on he fares, and to the border comes 

Of Eden, where delicious Paradise, 

Now nearer, crowns with her enclosure green, 

As with a rural mound, the champain head 

Of a steep wilderness, whose hairy sides 

With thicket overgrown, grotesque and wild. 

Access denied ; and over head up grew 

Insuperable highth of loftiest shade. 

Cedar, and pine, and fir, and branching palm, 

A sylvan scene, and, as the ranks ascend 

Shade above shade, a woody theatre 

Of stateliest view. Yet higher than their tops 

The verdurous wall of Paradise up sprung ; 

Which to our general sire gave prospect large 

Into his nether empire neighbouring round. 

And higher than that wall a circling row 

Of goodliest trees loadeu with fairest fruit. 

Blossoms and fruits at once of golden hue 

Appear'd, with gay enamell'd colours mixt : 

On which the sun more glad impress'd his beams, 

Than in fair evening cloud, or humid bow. 

When God hath show'r'd the earth ; so lovely seem'd 

That landscape : and of pure now purer air 

Meets his approach, and to the heart inspires 

Vernal delight and joy, able to drive 

All sadness but despair : now gentle gales 

Fanning their odoriferous wings dispense 

Native perfumes, and whisper whence they stole 

Those balmy spoils. As when to them who sail 

Beyond the Cape of Hope, and now are past 

Mozambic, off at sea north-east winds blow 

vSabean odours from the spicy shore 

Of Araby the blest, with such delay 

Well pleased they slack their course, and many a league 

Cheer'd with the grateful smell old Ocean smiles. 

So entertain 'd those odorous sweets the fiend 

Who came their bane, though with them better pleased 

Than Asmodeus with the fishy fume, 




^x.-^® 



\\\^S^^-^4- 



\i 







PARADISE LOST. 



6i 



S: 



M 



That drove him, though enamour'd, from the spouse 
Of Tobit's son, and with a vengeance sent 
From Media post to ^^gypt, there fast bound. 

Now to th' ascent of that steep savage hill 
Satan had jouruey'd on, pensive and slow ; 
But further way found none, so thick entwined 
As one continued brake, the undergrowth 
Of shrubs and tangling bushes had perplex'd 
All path of man or beast that past that way. 
One gate there only was, and that look'd east 
On th' other side : which when th' arch-felon saw, 
Due entrance he disdain'd, and in contempt 
At one slight bound high overleap'd all bound 
Of hill or highest wall, and sheer within 
Lights on his feet. As when a prowling wolf, 
Whom hunger drives to seek new haunt for prey, 
Watching where shepherds pen their flocks at eve 
In hurdled cotes amid the field secure, 
Leaps o'er the fence with ease into the fold : 
Or as a thief bent to unhoard the cash 
Of some rich burgher, whose substantial doors, 
Cross-barr'd and bolted fast, fear no assault, 
In at the window climbs, or o'er the tiles : 
So clomb this first grand thief into God's fold; 
So since into his church lew^d hirelings climb. 
Thence up he flew, and on the Tree of Life, 
The middle tree and highest there that grew, 
Sat like a cormorant ; yet not true life 
Thereby regain 'd, but sat devising death 
To them who lived ; nor on the virtue thought 
Of that life-gi^^ng plant, but only used 
For prospect, what well used had been the pledge 
Of immortality. So little knows 
Any, but GoD alone, to value right 
The good before him, but per\'erts best things 
To worst abuse, or to their meanest use. 
Beneath him with new wonder now he views 
To all delight of human sense exposed 
In narrow room nature's whole wealth, yea more, 
A heav'n on earth : for blissful Paradise 
Of God the garden was, by him in the east 
Of Eden planted ; Eden stretch'd her line 
From Auran eastward to the royal tow'rs 
Of great Seleucia, built by Grecian kings, 
Or where the sons of Eden long before 
Dwelt in Telassar. In this pleasant soil 
His far more pleasant garden God ordain 'd ; 
Out of the fertile ground he caused to grow- 
All trees of noblest kind for sight, smell, taste ; 
And all amid them stood the Tree of Life, 





-M^ft 




62 



PARADISE LOST. 



\^ 



High eminent, blooming ambrosial fruit 

Of vegetable gold, and next to Life 

Our death, the Tree of Knowledge, grew fast by, 

Knowledge of good bought dear by knowing ill. 

Southward through Eden went a river large, 

Nor changed his course, but through the shaggy hill 

Pass'd underneath ingulf 'd ; for God had thrown 

That mountain as his garden mould, high raised 

Upon the rapid current, which, through veins 

Of porous earth with kindly thirst up drawn, 

Rose a fresh fountain, and with many a rill 

Water'd the garden ; thence united fell 

Down the steep glade, and met the nether flood. 

Which from his darksome passage now appears ; 

And now divided into four main streams 

Runs diverse, wand'ring many a famous realm 

And country, whereof here needs no account ; 

But rather to tell how, if art could tell. 

How from that sapphire fount the crisped brooks, 

Rolling on orient pearl and sands of gold, 

With mazy error under pendant shades 

Ran Nectar, visiting each plant, and fed 

Flow'rs worthy of Paradise, which not nice art 

In beds and curious knots, but nature boon 

Pour'd forth profuse on hill, and dale, and plain. 

Both where the morning sun first warmly smote 

The open field, and where the unpierced shade 

Imbrown'd the noontide bow'rs. Thus was this place 

A happy rural seat of various view : 

Groves whose rich trees wept odorous gums and balm. 

Others whose fruit burnish'd with golden rind 

Hung amiable, Hesperian fables true. 

If true, here only, and of delicious taste. 

Betwixt them lawns, or level downs, and flocks 

Grazing the tender herb, were interposed, 

Or palmy hillock, or the flow'ry lap 

Of some irriguous valley spread her store, 

Flow'rs of all hue, and without thorn the rose. 

Another side, umbrageous grots and caves 

Of cool recess, o'er which the mantling vine 

Lays forth her purple grape, and gently creeps 

Luxuriant : meanwhile murmmnng waters fall 

Down the slope hills, dispersed, or in a lake, 

That to the fringed bank with myrtle crown'd 

Her crystal mirror holds, unite their streams. 

The birds their choir apply ; airs, vernal airs, 

Breathing the smell of field and grove, attune 

The trembling leaves, while universal Pan, 

Knit with the Graces and the Hours in dance, 

Led on th' eternal spring. Not that fair field 




^, 





PARADISE LOST, 



63 



"'I ill 



./^ 



Of Enna, where Proserpine gathering flow'rs, 

Herself a fairer flow'r, by gloomy Dis 

Was gather'd, which cost Ceres all that pain 

To seek her through the world ; nor that sweet grove 

Of Daphne by Orontes and the inspired 

Castalian spring might with this paradise 

Of Eden strive : nor that Nyseian isle 

Girt with the river Triton, where old Cham, 

Whom Gentiles Amnion call and Libyan Jove, 

Hid Amalthea and her florid son 

Young Bacchus from his stepdame Rhea's eye; 

Nor where Abassin kings their issue guard, 

Mount Amara, though this by some supposed 

True paradise, under the Ethiop line 

By Nilus' head, enclosed with shining rock, 

A whole day's journey high, but wide remote 

From this Assyrian garden, where the fiend 

Saw undelighted, all delight, all kind 

Of living creatures new to sight and strange. 

Two of far nobler shape erect and tall, 
Godlike erect, with native honour clad 
In native majesty, seem'd lords of all. 
And worthy seem'd : for in their looks divine 
The image of their glorious Maker shone, 
Truth, wisdom, sanctitude severe and pure, 
Severe, but in true filial freedom placed. 
Whence true authority in men : though both 
Not equal, as their sex not equal, seem'd ; 
For contemplation he and valour form'd. 
For softness she and sweet attractive grace ; 
He for God only, she for God in him. 
His fair large front and eye sublime declared 
Absolute rule ; and hyacinthin locks 
Round from his parted forelock manly hung 
Clust'ring, but not beneath his shoulders broad : 
She as a veil down to the slender waist 
Her unadorned golden tresses wore 
Dishevell'd, but in wanton ringlets waved 
As the \nne curls her tendrils, which implied 
Subjection, but required with gentle sway. 
And by her yielded, by him best received. 
Yielded ^dth coy submission, modest pride, 
And sweet reluctant amorous delay. 
Nor those mysterious parts were then conceal'd ; 
Then was not guilty shame, dishonest shame 
Of nature's works, honour dishonourable, 
Sin-bred, how have ye troubled all mankind 
With shows instead, mere shows of seeming pure. 
And banish'd from man's life his happiest life, 
Simplicity and spotless innocence ! 



'f 





\ 



^--'li^ - ^ 







64 



PARADISE LOST. 



i iiiii 




"^ 



So pass'd they naked on, nor shunn'd the sight 
Of God or Angel, for they thought no ill : 
So hand in hand they pass'd, the loveliest pair 
That ever since in love's embraces met ; 
Adam the goodliest man of men since born 
His sons, the fairest of her daughters Eve. 
Under a tuft of shade, that on a green 
Stood whisp'ring soft, by a fresh fountain side 
They sat them down ; and after no more toil 
Of their sweet gard'ning labour than sufficed 
To recommend cool Zephyr, and made ease 
More easy, wholesome thirst and appetite 
More grateful, to their supper fruits they fell, 
Nectarine fruits, which the compliant boughs 
Yielded them, side-long as they sat recline 
On the soft downy bank damask'd with flow'rs. 
The savoury pulp they chew, and in the rind, 
Still as they thirsted, scoop the brimming stream ; 
Nor gentle purpose nor endearing smiles 
Wanted, nor youthful dalliance, as beseems 
Fair couple, link'd in happy nuptial league 
Alone as they. About them frisking play'd 
All beasts of th' earth, since wild, and of all chase 
In wood or wilderness, forest or den ; 
Sporting the lion ramp'd, and in his paw 
Dandled the kid ; bears, tigers, ounces, pards, 
Gamboll'd before them ; th' unwieldly elephant 
To make them mirth used all his might, and wreath'd 
His lithe proboscis ; close the serpent sly 
Insinuating wove with Gordian twine 
His braided train, and of his fatal guile 
Gave proof unheeded ; others on the grass 
Couch'd, and now fiU'd with pasture gazing sat, 
Or bedward ruminating : for the sun 
Declined was hasting now with prone career 
To th' ocean isles, and in th' ascending scale 
Of heav'n the stars that usher evening rose : 
When Satan still in gaze, as first he stood. 
Scarce thus at length fail'd speech recover'd sad. 
O hell ! what do mine eyes with grief behold. 
Into our room of bliss thus high advanced 
Creatures of other mould, earth-born perhaps, 
Not spirits, yet to heav'nly spirits bright 
Little inferior ; whom my thoughts pursue 
With wonder, and could love, so lively shines 
In them divine resemblance, and such grace 
The hand that form'd them on their shape hath pour'd ! 
Ah gentle pair, ye little think how nigh 
Your change approaches, when all these delights 
Will vanish and deliver ye to woe ; 








h ;iti, ■ iki'.i '' 



/ 1 , \ , Viiiiii'i , 




f m 







PARADISE LOST. 



More woe, the more your taste is now of joy : 

Happ}-, but for so happy ill secvired 

Long to continue ; and this high seat your heav'n 

111 fenced for heav'n to keep out such a foe 

As now is enter'd : yet no purposed foe 

To you, whom I could pity thus forlorn. 

Though I unpitied. League with 3^011 I seek. 

And mutual amity, so straight, so close. 

That I with you must dwell, or you with me 

Henceforth : my dwelling haply may not please, 

Like this fair paradise, your sense ; )^et such 

Accept, your Maker's work; He gave it me. 

Which I as freely give : hell shall unfold 

To entertain 5-ou two, her widest gates. 

And send forth all her kings : there will be room, 

Not like these narrow limits, to receive 

Your numerous offspring ; if no better place, 

Thank him who puts me loth to this revenge 

On j'ou, who wrong me not, for Him who wrong'd. 

And should I at your harmless innocence 

Melt, as I do, yet public reason just. 

Honour and empire with revenge enlarged, 

By conquering this new world, compels me now 

To do, what else, though damn'd, I should abhor. 

So spake the fiend, and with necessity. 
The tyrant's plea, excused his devilish deeds. 
Then from his lofty stand on that high tree 
Down he alights among the sportful herd 
Of those fourfooted kinds, himself now one, 
Now other, as their shape served best his end 
Nearer to view his prey, and unespied 
To mark what of their state he more might learn 
By word or action mark'd : about them round 
A lion now he stalks with fierj' glare, 
Then as a tiger, who by chance hath spied 
In some purlieu two gentle fawns at play. 
Strait couches close, then rising changes oft 
His couchant watch, as one who chose his ground. 
Whence rushing he might surest seize them both 
Griped in each paw : when Adam first of men. 
To first of women Eve thus moving speech, 
Turn'd him all ear to hear new utterance flow. 

Sole partner and sole part of all those joys, 
Dearer thyself than all, needs must the Power 
That made us, and for us this ample world, 
Be infinitely good, and of His good 
As liberal and free as infinite. 
That raised us from the dust and placed us here 
In all this happiness, who at His hand 
Have nothing merited, nor can perform 



/ ! 





66 



PARADISE LOST. 




u 




I 



Aught whereof He hath need, He who requires 
From us no other service than to keep 
This one, this easy charge, of all the trees 
In paradise that bear delicioiis fruit 
So various, not to taste that only Tree 
Of Knowledge, planted by the Tree of Life ; 
So near grows death to life ; whate'er death is, 
Some dreadful thing no doubt; for well thou know'st 
God hath pronounced it death to taste that tree, 
The only sign of our obedience left 
Among so many signs of power and rule 
Conferr'd upon us, and dominion given 
Over all other creatvires that possess 
Earth, air, and sea. Then let us not think hard 
One easy prohibition, who enjoy 
Free leave so large to all things else, and choice 
Unlimited of manifold delights : 
But let us ever praise him and extol 
His bounty, following our delightful task 
To prune these growing plants, and tend these flowers ; 
Which were it toilsome, yet with thee were sweet. 
To whom thus Eve replied. O thou, for whom 
And from whom I was form'd, flesh of th}- flesh, 
And without whom am to no end, my guide 
And head, what thou hast said is just and right. 
For we to him indeed all praises owe, 
And daily thanks ; I chiefly, who enjoy 
So far the happier lot, enjoying thee 
Pre-eminent by so much odds, while thou 
Like consort to thyself canst no where find. 
That day I oft remember, when from sleep 
I first awaked, and found myself reposed 
Under a shade on flowers, much wond'ring where 
And what I was, whence thither brought, and how. 
Not distant far from thence a murmuring sound 
Of waters issued from a cave, and spread 
Into a liquid plain, then stood unmoved, 
Pure as th' expanse of heav'n ; I thither went 
With unexperienced thought, and laid me down 
On the green bank, to look into the clear 
Smooth lake, that to me seem'd another sky. 
As I bent down to look, just opposite 
A shape within the wat'ry gleam appear'd 
Bending to look on me : I started back, 
It started back ; but pleased I soon return'd, 
Pleased it return'd as soon with answering looks 
Of sympathy and love : there I had fix'd 
Mine eyes till now, and pined with vain desire. 
Had not a voice thus warn'd me, What thou seest, 
What there thou seest, fair creature, is thyself; 










PARADISE LOST. 

With thee it came and goes : but follow uie, 

And I will bring thee where^^no shadow staj-s 

Thy coming, and thy soft embraces ; he 

Whose image thou art, him thou shalt enjoy 

Inseparably thine, to him shalt bear 

Multitudes like thyself, and thence be call'd 

Mother of human race. What could I do, 

But follow straight, invasibly thus led? 

Till I espied thee, fair indeed and tall, 

Under a platain ; yet, methought, less fair, 

Less winning soft, less amiably mild, 

Than that smooth wat'ry image ; back I turn'd, 

Thou followng criedst aloud, Return, fair Eve, 

Whom fliest thou? whom thou fliest, of him thou art, 

His flesh, his bone ; to give thee being I lent 

Out of my side to thee, nearest my heart, 

Substantial life, to have thee by my side 

Henceforth an individual solace dear : 

Part of ni}' soul, I seek thee, and thee claim, 

My other half. With that thy gentle hand 

Seized mine ; I yielded, and from that time see 

How beauty is excell'd by manly grace. 

And wisdom, which alone is truly fair. 

So spake our general mother, and, with eyes 
Of conjugal attraction unreproved 
And meek surrender, half embracing lean'd 
On our first father ; half her swelling breast 
Naked met his under the flowing gold 
Of her loose tresses hid : he, in delight 
Both of her beauty and submissive charms. 
Smiled with superior love, as Jupiter 
On Juno smiles, when he impregns the clouds 
That shed May flowers, and press' d her matron lip 
With kisses pure : aside the devil turn'd 
For envy, yet with jealous leer malign 
Eyed them askance, and to himself thus plain'd. 

Sight hateful, sight tormenting ! thus these two 
Imparadised in one another's arms, 
The happier Eden, shall enjoy their fill 
Of bliss on bliss, while I to hell am thrust. 
Where neither joy nor love, but fierce desire, 
Among our other torments not the least. 
Still unfulfill'd with pain of longing pines. 
Yet let me not forget what I have gain'd 
From their own mouths : all is not theirs it seems ; 
One fatal tree there stands of Knowledge call'd 
Forbidden them to taste : knowledge forbidden ? 
Suspicious, reasonless. Why should their Lord 
En\y them that ? can it be sin to know ? 
Can it be death? and do thev onlv stand 



67 



m 




"\ 






«« "sT^-^ ""^S 







PARADISE LOST. 



By ignorance? is that tlieir happj^ state, 

The proof of their obedience and their faith? 

O fair foundation laid whereon to build 

Their ruin ! hence I will excite their minds 

With more desire to know, and to reject 

Envious commands, invented with design 

To keep them low, whom knowledge might exalt 

Equal with Gods ; aspiring to be such, 

They taste and die : what likelier can ensue ? 

But first with narrow search I must walk round 

This garden, and no corner leave unspied; 

A chance but chance may lead where I may meet 

Some wand'ring spirit of heav'n, by fountain side, 

Or 111 thick shade retired, from him to draw 

What further would be learn'd. Live while ye may, 

Yet happy pair; enjoy, till I return. 

Short pleasures, for long woes are to succeed. 

So saying, his proud step he scornful turn'd, 
But with sly circumspection, and began 
Through wood, through waste, o'er hill, o'er dale, his roam. 
Meanwhile in utmost longitude, where heav'n 
With earth and ocean meets, the setting sun 
Slowly descended, and with right aspect 
Against the eastern gate of paradise 
Levell'd his ev'ning rays : it was a rock 
Of alabaster, piled up to the clouds, 
Conspicuous far, winding with one ascent 
Accessible from earth, one entrance high ; 
The rest was craggy cliff, that overhung 
Still as it rose, impossible to climb. 
Betwixt these rocky pillars, Gabriel sat, 
Chief of the angelic guards, awaiting night ; 
About him exercised heroic games 
The unarm'd youth of heav'n ; but nigh at hand 
Celestial armoury, shields, helms, and spears, 
Hung high with diamond flaming and with gold. 
Thither came Uriel, gliding through the even 
On a sunbeam, swift as a shooting star 
In autumn thwarts the night, when vapours fired 
Impress the air, and show the mariner 
From what point of his compass to beware 
Impetuous winds : he thus began in haste. 

Gabriel, to thee thy course by lot hath given 
Charge and strict watch, that to this happy place 
No evil thing approach or enter in : 
This day at highth of noon came to my sphere 
A spirit, zealous, as he seem'd, to know 
More of the Almight3-'s works, and chiefl}' man 
God's latest image : I descried his way 
Bent all on speed, and mark'd his aer}' gait : 





I 






.m^ 

A'^. 



PARADISE LOST. 69 

But in the mount that lies from Eden north, 
Where he first lighted, soon discern'd his looks 
Alien from heav'n, with passions foul obscured : 
Mine eye pursued him still, but under shade 
Lost sight of him ; one of the banish'd crew, 
I fear, hath ventured from the deep to raise 
New troubles ; him thy care must be to find. 

To whom the winged warrior thus return'd : 
Uriel, no wonder if thy perfect sight. 
Amid the sun's bright circle where thou sitt'st. 
See far and wide : iu at this gate none pass 
The vigilance here placed, but such as come 
Well known from heav'n ; and since meridian hour 
No creature thence. If spirit of other sort. 
So minded, have o'erleap d these earthy bounds 
On purpose, hard thou know'st it to exclude 
Spiritual sut)stance with corporeal bar. 
But if within the circuit of these walks 
In whatsoever shape he lurk, of whom 
Thou tell'st, by morrow dawning I shall know. 

So promised he, and Uriel to his charge 
Return'd on that bright beam, whose point now raised 
Bore him slope downward to the sun, now fall'n 
Beneath th' Azores ; whether the pritne orb, 
Incredible how swift, had hither roll'd 
Diurnal, or this less volubil earth, 
By shorter flight to th' east, had left him there. 
Arraying with reflected purple and gold 
The clouds that on his western throne attend. 
Now came still evening on, and twilight grey 
Had in her sober livery all things clad ; 
Silence accompanied ; for beast and bird, 
They to their grassy couch, these to their nests, 
Were slunk, all but the wakeful nightingale ; 
She all night long her amorous descant sung ; 
Silence was pleased : now glow'd the firmament 
With living sapphires ; Hesperus that led 
The starry host rode brightest, till the moon, 
Rising in clouded majest}^ at length 
Apparent queen unveil'd her peerless light, 
And o'er the dark her silver mantle threw. 

WTien Adam thus to Eve : Fair consort, the hour 
Of night and all things now retired to rest 
Mind us of like repose, since God hath set 
Labour and rest, as day and night, to men 
Successive, and the timely due of sleep 
Now falling with soft slumbrous weight inclines 
Our eyelids : other creatures all day long 
Rove idle, unemploy'd, and less need rest : 
Man hath his dailv work of bo(l\ or mind 



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70 PARADISE LOST. 

Appointed, which declares his dignity, 
And the regard of heaven on all his wa3'S ; 
While other animals unactive range, 
And of their doings God takes no account. 
To-morrow ere fresh morning streak the east 
With first approach of light we must be risen. 
And at our pleasant labour, to reform 
Yon flowery arbours, yonder alleys green. 
Our walk at noon, with branches overgrown. 
That mock our scant manuring, and require 
More hands than ours to lop their wanton growth : 
Those blossoms also and those dropping gums, 
That lie bestrown unsightly and unsmooth, 
Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease : 
Meanwhile, as nature wills, night bids us rest. 

To whom thus Eve with perfect beauty adorn' d. 
My author and disposer, what thou bidd'st 
Unargued I obey, so God ordains ; 
God is thy law, thou mine ; to know no more 
Is woman's happiest knowledge and her praise. 
With thee conversing I forget all time. 
All seasons and their change, all please alike : 
Sweet is the breath of morn, her rising sweet. 
With charm of earliest birds ; pleasant the sun. 
When first on this delightful land he spreads 
His orient beams, on herb, tree, fruit, and flower, 
Glist'ring with dew ; fragrant the fertile earth 
After soft showers ; and sweet the coming on 
Of grateful ev'ning mild ; then silent night 
With this her solemn bird and this fair moon, 
And these the gems of heav'n, her starry train : 
But neither breath of morn when she ascends 
With charm of earliest birds, nor rising sun 
On this delightful land, nor herb, fruit, flower, 
Glist'ring with dew, nor fragrance after showers. 
Nor grateful evening mild, nor silent night 
With this her solemn bird, nor walk by moon, 
Or glittering starlight, without thee is sweet. 
But wherefore all night long shine these ? for whom 
This glorious sight, when sleep hath shut all eyes ? 

To whom our general ancestor replied. 
Daughter of God and man, accomplish'd Eve, 
Those have their course to finish, round the earth, 
By morrow ev'ning, and from land to land 
In order, though to nations yet unborn, 
Minist'ring light prepared, they set and rise ; 
Lest total darkness should by night regain 
Her old possession, and extinguish life 
In nature and all things, which these soft fires 
Not only enlighten, but with kindly heat 




\. 



"i^-«> 



'W 




PARADISE LOST. 71 

Of various influence foment and warm, 

Temper or nourish, or in part shed down 

Their stellar \artue on all kinds that grow 

On earth, made hereby apter to receive 

Perfection from the sun's more potent ray. 

These then, though unbeheld in deep of night, 

Shine not in vain ; nor think, though men were none 

That heav'n would want spectators, God want praise : 

IVIillions of spiritual creatures walk the earth 

Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep. 

All these with ceaseless praise his works behold 

Both day and night : how often from the steep 

Of echoing hill or thicket have we heard 

Celestial voices to the midnight air. 

Sole, or responsive each to other's note, 

Smging their great Creator? oft in bands 

While they keep watch, or nightly rounding walk, 

With heav'nly touch of instrumental sounds 

In full harmonic number join'd, their songs 

Divide the night, and lift our thoughts to heaven. 

Thus talking hand in hand alone they pass'd 
On to their blissful bower ; it was a place 
Chosen by the sov' reign planter, when he framed 
All things to man's delightful use : the roof 

Of thickest covert was inwoven shade, 
Laurel and myrtle, and what higher grew 

Of firm and fragrant leaf; on either side 

Acanthus and each odorous bushy shrub 

Fenced up the verdant wall, each beauteous flower. 

Iris all hues, roses, and jessamin 

Rear'd high their flourish'd heads between, and wrought 

Mosaic ; under foot the violet. 

Crocus, and hyacinth with rich inlay 

Broider'd the ground, more colour'd than with stone 

Of costliest emblem : other creature here. 

Beast, bird, insect, or worm, durst enter none ; 

Such was their awe of man. In shadier bower 

More sacred and sequester'd, though but feign'd. 

Pan or Sylvanus never slept ; nor nymph, 

Nor Faunus haimted Here in close recess 

With flowers, garlands, and sweet-smelling herbs» 

EspousM Eve deck'd first her nuptial bed, 

And heav'nly choirs the Hymenaean sung, 

What day the genial angel to our sire 

Brought her in naked beauty more adom'd, 

IMore lovely than Pandora, whom the Gods 

Endow'd with all their gifts, and O too like 

In sad event, when to the unwiser son 

Of Japhet brought by Hermes she ensnared 

Mankind with her fair looks, to be avenged 




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72 



PARADISE LOST. 



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On him who had stole Jove's authentic fire. 

Thus at their shady lodge arrived, both stood, 
Both turn'd, and under open sky adored 
The God that made both sky, air, earth, and heav'n 
Which they beheld, the moon's resplendent globe, 
And starry pole. Thou also mad'st the night, 
Maker Omnipotent, and thou the day, 
Which we in our appointed work employ'd 
Have finish 'd, happy in our mutual help 
And mutual love, the crown of all our bliss 
Ordain'd by thee, and this delicious place 
For us too large, where thy abundance wants 
Partakers, and uncropt falls to the ground. 
But thou hast promised from us two a race 
To fill the earth, who shall with us extol 
Thy goodness infinite, both when we wake, 
And when we seek, as now, thy gift of sleep. 

This said unanimous, and other rites 
Observing none, but adoration pure 
Which God likes best, into their inmost bower 
Handed they went ; and, eased the putting off 
These troublesome disguises which we wear. 
Straight side by side were laid ; nor turn'd, I ween, 
Adam from his fair spouse ; nor Eve the rites 
Mysterious of connubial love refused : 
Whatever hypocrites austerely talk 
Of purity, and place, and innocence. 
Defaming as impure what God declares 
Pure, and commends to some, leaves free to all. 
Our Maker bids increase, who bids abstain 
But our destroyer, foe to God and man ? 
Hail wedded love, mysterious law, true source 
Of human offspring, sole propriety 
In paradise of all things common else. 
By thee adulterous lust was driv'n from men 
Among the bestial herds to range ; by thee 
Founded in reason, loyal, just, and pure. 
Relations dear, and all the charities 
Of father, son, and brother, first were known. 
Far be it, that I should write thee sin or blame, 
Or think thee unbefitting holiest place, 
Perpetual fountain of domestic sweets, 
Whose bed is undefiled and chaste pronounced. 
Present, or past, as saints and patriarchs used. 
Here Love his golden shafts employs, here lights 
His constant lamp, and waves his purple wings. 
Reigns here and revels ; not in the bought smile 
Of harlots, loveless, joyless, unendear'd. 
Casual fruition ; nor in court amours, 
Mix'd dance, or wanton mask, or midnight ball, 




^1 




" These to the boiuer direct 
In search of whom they sought." — 'Boo\l IV., lines ■j()^--jt)q. 









PARADISE LOST. 73 

Or serenate, which the starved lover sings 
To his proud fair, best quitted with disdain. 
These, lull'd by nightingales, embracing slept. 
And on their naked limbs the flowery roof 
Shower'd roses, which the morn repair'd. Sleep on, 
Blest pair, and O ! yet happiest if ye seek 
No happier state, and know to know no more. 

Now had night measured with her shadowy cone 
Half way up hill this vast sublunar vault, 
And from their ivory port the Cherubim 
Forth issuing at th' accustom'd hour stood arrn'd 
To their night watches in warlike parade, 
When Gabriel to his next in power thus spake. 

Uzziel, half these draw off, and coast the south 
With strictest watch ; these other wheel the north ; 
Our circuit meets full west. As flame they part, 
Half wheeling to the shield, half to the spear. 
From these, two strong and subtle spirits he call'd 
That near him stood, and gave them thus in charge. 

Ithuriel and Zephon, with wing'd speed 
Search through this garden, leave unsearch'd no nook ; 
But chiefly where those two fair creatures lodge. 
Now laid perhaps asleep secure of harm. 
This evening from the sun's decline arrived. 
Who tells of some infernal spirit seen 
Hitherward bent, who could have thought ? escaped 
The bars of hell, on errand bad no douljt : 
vSucli where ye find, seize fast, and hither bring. 

So saying, on he led his radiant files. 
Dazzling the moon ; these to the bower direct 
In search of whom they sought : him there they found, 
Squat like a toad, close at the ear of Eve ; 
Assaying by his devilish art to reach 
The organs of her fanc}', and with them forge 
Illusions as he list, phantasms, and dreams ; 
Or if, inspiring venom, he might taint 
Th' animal spirits that from pure blood arise 
Like gentle breaths from rivers pure, thence raise 
At least distemper'd, discontented thoughts, 
Vain hopes, vain aims, inordinate desires 
Blown up with high conceits ingend'ring pride. 
Him thus intent Ithuriel with his spear 
Touch 'd lightly ; for no falsehood can endure ^ 

Touch of celestial temper, but returns j 

Of force to its own likeness* up he starts \ 

Discover'd and surprised. As when a spark /"^ 

I.,ights on a heap of nitrous powder, laid » 

Fit for the tun, some magazine to store 
Against a rumour'd war, the smutty grain 
With sudden bla/e diffused inflames the air: 



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^ 



74 



PARADISE LOST. 



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So started up in his own shape the fiend. 

Back stepp'd those two fair angels, half amazed 

So sudden to behold the grisly king ; 

Yet thus, unmoved with fear, accost him soon. 

Which of those rebel spirits adjudged to hell 
Coni'st thou, escaped thy prison ? and transformed, 
Why sat'st thou like an enemy in wait, 
Here watching at the head of these that sleep ? 

Know ye not then, said Satan fill'd with scorn, 
Know ye not me ? ye knew me once no mate 
For you, there sitting where ye durst not soar ; 
Not to know me argues yourselves unknown, 
The lowest of your throng ; or if ye know. 
Why ask ye, and superfluous begin 
Your message, like to end as much in vain ? 

To whom thus Zephon, answering scorn with scorn. 
Think not, revolted spirit, thy shape the same 
Or undiminish'd brightness, to be known 
As when thou stood'st in heav'n upright and pure ; 
That glory then, when thou no more wast good, 
Departed from thee, and thou resemblest now 
Thy sin and place of doom obscure and foul. 
But come, for thou, besure, shalt give account 
To him who sent us, whose charge is to keep 
This place inviolable, and these from harm. 

So spake the Cherub, and his grave rebuke. 
Severe in youthful beauty, added grace 
Invincible : abash'd the devil stood, 
And felt how awful goodness is, and saw 
Virtue in her shape how lovely, saw, and pined 
His loss ; but chiefly to find here observed 
His lustre visibly impair'd ; yet seem'd 
Undaunted. If I must contend, said he. 
Best with the best, the sender not the sent, 
Or all at once ; more glory will be won. 
Or less be lost. Thy fear, said Zephon bold. 
Will save us trial what the least can do 
Single against thee wicked, and thence weak. 
The fiend replied not, overcome with rage ; 
But like a proud steed rein'd went haughty on, 
Champing his iron curb : to strive or fly 
He held it vain ; awe from above had quell'd 
His heart, not else dismay'd. Now drew they nigh 
The western point, where those half-rounding guards 
Just met, and closing stood in squadron join'd. 
Awaiting next command. To whom their chief 
Gabriel from the front thus call'd aloud. 

O friends, I hear the tread of nimble feet 
Hasting this way, and now bj- glimpse discern 
Ithuriel and Zephon through the shade. 



i 





PARADISE LOST. 



75 



And with them comes a third of regal port, 
But faded splendour wan ; who by his gait 
And fierce demeanour seems the prince of hell, 
Nor likely to part hence without contest : 
Stand firm, for in his look defiance lours. 

He scarce had ended, when those two approach' d. 
And brief related whom they brought, where found. 
How busied, in what form and posture couch'd. 
To whom with stern regard thus Gabriel spake. 

Why hast thou, Satan, broke the bounds prescnbed 
To thy transgressions, and disturb'd the charge 
Of others, who approve not to transgress 
By thy example, but have power and right 
To question thy bold entrance on this place. 
Employ 'd, it seems, to violate sleep, and those 
Whose dwelling God hath planted here in bliss ? 
To whom thus Satan with contemptuous brow. 
Gabriel, thou hadst in heav'n th' esteem of wise, 
And such I held thee ; but this question ask'd 
Puts me in doubt. Lives there who loves his pain ? 
Who would not, finding way, break loose from hell, 
Though thither doom'd ? thou wouldst thyself, no doubt, 
And boldly venture to whatever place 
Farthest from pain, where thou might'st hope to change 
Torment with ease, and soonest recompense 
Dole with delight, which in this place I sought : 
To thee no reason, who know'st only good. 
But evil hast not tried : and wilt object 
His will who bound us ? let Him surer bar 
His iron gates, if He intends our stay 
In that dark durance : thus much what was ask'd. 
The rest is true ; they found me where the}- say ; 
But that implies not violence or harm. 

Thus he in scorn. The warlike angel moved, 
Disdainfully half smiling, thus replied. 
O loss of one in heav'n to judge of wise, 
Since Satan fell, whom folly overthrew, 
And now returns him from his prison scaped. 
Gravely in doubt whether to hold them wise 
Or not, who ask what boldness brought him hither 
Unlicensed from his bounds in hell prescribed : 
So wise he judges it to fly from pain 
However, and to scape his punishment. 
So judge thou still, presumptuous, till the wrath, 
Which thou incurr'st by flying, meet thy flight 
Sevenfold, and scourge that wisdom back to hell. 
Which taught thee yet no better, that no pain 
Can equal anger infinite provoked. 
But wherefore thou alone ? wherefore with thee 
Came not all hell broke loose ? is pain to them 




^ 




76 



PARADISE LOST. 



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Less pain, less to be fled, or thou than they 
Less hardy to endure ? courageous chief. 
The first in flight from pain, hadst thou alleged 
To thy deserted host this cause of flight. 
Thou surel)^ hadst not come sole fugitive. 

To which the fiend thus answer'd, frowning stern. 
Not that I less endure, or shrink from pain, 
Insulting angel, well thou know'st I stood 
Thy fiercest, when in battle to thy aid 
The blasting vollied thunder made all speed, 
And seconded thy else not dreaded spear. 
But still thy words at random, as before, 
Argue thy inexperience what behoves 
From hard assays and ill successes past 
A faithful leader, not to hazard all 
Through ways of danger by himself untried. 
I therefore, I alone first undertook 
To wing the desolate abyss, and spy 
This new created world, whereof in hell 
Fame is not silent, here in hope to find 
Better abode, and my afflicted Powers 
To settle here on earth, or in mid air ; 
Though for possession put to try once more 
What thou and thy gay legions dare against ; 
Whose easier business were to serve their Lord 
High up in heav'n, with songs to hymn his throne, 
And practised distances to cringe, not fight. 

To whom the warrior angel soon replied. 
To say and straight unsay, pretending first 
Wise to fly pain, professing next the spy, 
Argues no leader, but a liar traced, 
Satan, and couldst thou faithful add ? O name, 
O sacred name of faithfulness profaned ! 
Faithful to whom ? to thy rebellious crew ? 
Army of fiends, fit body to fit head : 
Was this your discipline and faith engaged. 
Your military obedience, to dissolve 
Allegiance to th' acknowledged Power supreme? 
And thou sly hypocrite, who now wouldst seem 
Patron of lilaerty, who more than thou 
Once fawn'd, and cring'd, and servilely adored 
Heav'n's awful Monarch ? wherefore but in hope 
To dispossess him, and thyself to reign ? 
But mark what I arreed thee now ; Avaunt ; 
Fly thither whence thou fledst : if from this hour 
Within these hallow'd limits thou appear. 
Back to th' infernal pit I drag thee chain'd, 
And seal thee so, as henceforth not to scorn 
The facile gates of hell too slightly barr'd. 

So threaten'd he : but Satan to no threats 






PARADISE LOST. 



77 



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Gave heed, but waxing more in rage replied. 

Then, when I am thy captive talk of chains, 
Proud limitary Cherub ; but ere then 
Far heavier load thyself expect to feel 
From my prevailing arm ; though heaven's King 
Ride on "thy wings, and thou with thy compeers, 
Used to the yoke, draw'st his triumphant wheels 
In progress through the road of heav'n star-paved. 

While thus he spake, th' angelic squadron bright 
Turn'd fier}^ red, sharp'ning in mooned horns 
Their phalanx, and began to hem him round 
With ported spears, as thick as when a field 
Of Ceres, ripe for harvest, waving bends 
Her bearded grove of ears, which way the wind 
Sways them ; the careful ploughman doubting stands, 
Lest on the threshing floor his hopeful sheaves 
Prove chaff. On the other side Satan alarm'd, 
Collecting all his might, dilated stood, 
Like TenerifF or Atlas unremoved : 
His stature reach'd the sky, and on his crest 
Sat horror plumed ; nor wanted in his grasp 
What seem'd both spear and shield. Now dreadful deeds 
Might have ensued, nor only Paradise 
In this commotion, but the starry cope 
Of heav'n perhaps, or all the elements 
At least had gone to w'rack, disturb'd and torn 
With violence of this conflict, had not soon 
Th' Eternal to prevent such horrid fray 
Hung forth in heav'n his golden scales, yet seen 
Betwixt Astrea and the Scorpion sign. 
Wherein all things created first he weigh'd, 
The pendulous round earth with balanced air 
In counterpoise ; now ponders all events, 
Battles, and realms : in these he put two weights, 
The sequel each of parting and of fight ; 
The latter quick upflew and kick'd the beam : 
Which Gabriel spving thus bespake the fiend. 

Satan, I know thy strength, and thou know'st mine : 
Neither our own but given ; what folly then 
To boast what arms can do, since thine no more 
Than heav'n permits, nor mine, though doubled now 
To trample thee as mire ? for proof look up, 
And read thy lot in yon celestial sign. 
Where thou art weigh'd, and shown how light, how weak, 
If thou resist. The fiend look'd up, and knew 
His mounted scale aloft : nor more ; but fled 
Murmuring, and with him fled the shades of night. 








PARADISE LOST. 



BOOK V. 

The Argument. 

Morning approached, Eve relates to Adam her troublesome dream; 
he likes it not, yet comforts her : they come forth to their day- 
labours : their morning hymn at the door of their bovver. God, 
to render man inexcusable, sends Raphael to admonish him of 
his obedience, of his free estate, of his enemy near at hand, who 
he is, and why his enemy, and whatever else may avail Adam to 
know. Raphael comes down to paradise ; his appearance described, 
his coming discerned by Adam afar off, sitting at the door of his 
bower; he goes out to meet him, brings him to his lodge, enter- 
tains him with the choicest fruits of paradise got together by Eve ; 
their discourse at table ; Raphael performs his message, minds 
Adam of his state and of his enemy; relates, at Adam's request, 
who that enemy is, and how he came to be so, beginning from his 
first revolt in heaven, and the occasion thereof; how he drew his 
legions after him to the parts of the north, and there incited them 
to rebel with him ; persuading all but only Abdiel a seraph, who ia 
argument dissuades and opposes him, then forsakes him. 




Now morn, her rosy steps in tli' eastern clime 
Advancing, sow'd the earth with orient pearl, 
When Adam waked, so ciistom'd, forliis sleep 
Was aery light, from pure digestion bred. 
And temperate vapours bland, which th' only sound 
Of leaves and fuming rills, Aurora's fan 
I/ightly dispersed, and the shrill matin song 
Of birds on every bough : so much the more 
His wonder was to find unwakend Eve 
With tresses discomposed and glowing cheek, 
As though unquiet rest : he on his side 
Leaning half-raised, with looks of cordial love 
Hung over her enamour'd, and beheld 
Beauty, which, whether waking or asleep. 
Shot forth peculiar graces : then with voice 
Mild, as when Zephyrus on Flora breathes. 
Her hand soft touching, whisper'd thus : Awake, 
My fairest, my espoused, my latest found, 
Heav'n's last best gift, my ever new delight, 
Awake, the morning shines, and the fresh field 
Calls us, we lose the prime, to mark how spring 
Our tended plants, how blows the citron grove. 
What drops the myrrh, and what the balmy reed. 
How nature paints her colours, how the bee 
Sits on the bloom extracting liquid sweet. 

Such whisp'ring waked her, but with startled eye 




V 





PARADISE LOST. 

On Adam, whom embracing, thus she spake. 

O sole in whom my thoughts find all repose, 
My glory, my perfection, glad I see 
Thy face, and morn return "d ; for I this night, 
Such night till this I never pass'd, have dream'd, 
If dream'd, not as I oft am wont, of thee, 
\ >^ \', Works of day pass'd, or morrow's next design, 

"^,C;~J'.arv. But of offence and trouble, which my mind 

;,- " Knew never till this irksome night : methought 

Close at mine ear one call'd me forth to walk 
With gentle voice ; I thought it thine : it said, 
Why sleep'st thou Eve? now is the pleasant time. 
The cool, the silent, save where silence yields 
To the night-warbling bird, that now awake 
Tunes sweetest his love-labour'd song ; now reigns 
Full orb'd the moon, and with more pleasing light 
Shadowy sets off the face of things ; in vain, 
If none regard: heav'n wakes with all his eyes, 
Whom to behold but thee, nature's desire. 
In whose sight all things joy, with ravishment 
Attracted by thy beauty still to gaze. 
I rose as at thy call, but found thee not ; 
To find thee I directed then my walk ; 
And on, methought, alone I pass'd through waj'S 
That brought me on a sudden to the tree 
Of interdicted knowledge : fair it seem'd, 
Much fairer to my fancy than by day : 
And as I wond'ring look'd, beside it stood 
One shaped and wing'd like one of those from heav'n 
By us oft seen ; his dewy locks distill'd 
Ambrosia ; on that tree he also gazed ; 
' " - r And O fair plant, said he, with fruit surcharged, 

Deigns none to ease thy load and taste thy sweet, 
Nor God, nor man ; is knowledge so despised ? 
Or envy, or what reserv^e forbids to taste ? 
Forbid who will, none shall from me withhold 
Longer thy offer' d good ; why else set here ? 
This said, he paused not, but with vent'rous arm 
He pluck'd, he tasted ; me damp horror chill'd 
At such bold words vouch'd with a deed so bold. 
But he thus overjoy'd : O fruit divine, 
Sweet of thyself, but much more sweet thus cropp'd, 
Forbidden here, it seems, as only fit 
For Gods, yet able to make Gods of men : 
And why not Gods of men since good, the more 
Communicated, more abundant grows, 
The author not impair'd, but honour'd more ? 
Here, happy creature, fair angelic Eve, 
Fartake thou also ; happy though thou art. 
Happier thou may'st be, worthier canst not be : 



79 






\ I 'i 




-^ 






80 



PARADISE LOST. 




Taste this, and be henceforth among the Gods 

Thyself a Goddess, not to earth confined, 

But sometimes in the air, as we, sometimes 

Ascend to heav'n, by merit thine, and see 

What life the Gods live there, and such live thou. 

So saying, he drew nigh, and to me held. 

Even to my mouth of that same fruit held part 

Which he had pluck'd ; the pleasant savoury smell 

So quicken'd appetite, that I, methought. 

Could not but taste. Forthwith up to the clouds 

With him I flew, and underneath beheld 

The earth outstretch'd immense, a prospect wide 

And various : wondering at my flight and change 

To this high exaltation, suddenly 

My guide was gone, and I, methought, sunk down, 

And fell asleep : but O how glad I waked 

To find this but a dream ! Thus Eve her night 

Related, and thus Adam answer d sad. 

Best image of myself and dearer half, 
The trouble of thy thoughts this night iu sleep 
Affects me equally ; nor can I like 
This uncouth dream, of evil sprung I fear : 
Yet evil whence ? in thee can harbour none, 
Created pure. But know that in the soul 
Are many lesser faculties that serve 
Reason as chief : among these Fancy next 
Her office holds ; of all external things, 
Which the five watchful senses represent 
She forms imaginations, aery shapes. 
Which Reason joining, or disjoining, frames 
All what we affirm, or what deny, and call 
Our knowledge or opinion ; then retires 
Into her private cell when nature rests. 
Oft in her absence mimic Fancy wakes 
To imitate her ; but, misjoining shapes, 
Wild work produces oft, and most in dreams, 
111 matching words and deeds long past or late. 
Some such resemblances methinks I find 
Of our last evening's talk in this thy dream. 
But with addition strange ; yet be not sad : 
Evil into the mind of God or man 
May come and go, so unapproved, and leave 
No spot or blame behind ; which gives me hope 
That what in sleep thou didst abhor to dream, 
Waking thou never wilt consent to do. 
Be not dishearten'd then, nor cloud those looks 
That wont to be more cheerful and serene 
Than when fair morning first smiles on the world ; 
And let us to our fresh emploj^ments rise. 
Among the groves, the fountains, and the flow'rs ; 




M<. 







PARADISE LOST. 



That open now their choicest bosom'd smells, 
Reser\'ed from night, and kept for thee in store. 

So cheer'd he his fair spouse, and she was cheer'd; 
But silently a gentle tear let fall 
From either eye, and \\ iped them with her hair : 
Two other precious drops that read}- stood, 
Each in their crystal sluice, he ere they fell 
Kiss'd as the gracious signs of sweet remorse, 
And pious awe that fear'd to have offended. 

vSo all was clear'd, and to the field they haste. 
But first, from under shady arborous roof 
Soon as they forth were come to open sight 
Of dayspring and the sun, who, scarce uprisen 
With wheels yet hov'ring o'er the ocean brim 
Shot parallel to the earth his dewy ray. 
Discovering in wide landscape all the east 
Of Paradise and Eden's happy plains, 
Lowly they bow'd adoring, and began 
Their orisons, each morning duly paid 
In various stj'le ; for neither various style 
Nor holy rapture wanted they to praise 
Their INIaker, in fit strains pronounced or sung 
Unmeditated, such prompt eloquence 
Flow'd from their lips, in prose or numerous verse, 
More tuneful than needed lute or harp 
To add more sweetness : and they thus began. 

These are thy glorious works. Parent of good, 
Almight}-, thine this universal frame, 
Thus wondrous fair ; thyself how wondrous then 1 
Unspeakable, who sitt'st above these heavens. 
To us in\-isible, or dimly seen 
In these thy lowest works ; yet these declare 
Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine. 
Speak ye who best can tell, ye sons of light, 
Angels, for ye behold him, and with songs 
And choral symphonies, day without night. 
Circle his throne rejoicing, ye in heaven. 
On earth join all ye creatures to extol 
Him first, him last, him midst, and without end. 
Fairest of stars, last in the train of night, 
If better thou belong not to the dawn. 
Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling mom 
With thy bright circlet, praise him in thy sphere 
While day arises, that sweet hour of prime. 
Thou sun, of this great world both eye and soul, 
Acknowledge him thy greater, sound his praise 
In thy eternal course, both when thou climb'st. 
And when high noon hast gain'd, and when thou fall'st. 
Moon, that now meet'st the orient sun, now fiy'st. 
With the fixed stars, fixed in their orb that flies, 





_J 




82 



PARADISE LOST. 




N f^ 






And ye five other wand'ring fires that move 

In mystic dance not without song, resound 

His praise, who out of darkness call'd up light. 

Air, and ye elements the eldest birth * 

Of nature's womb, that in quaternion run 

Perpetual circle, multiform, and mix 

And nourish all things, let your ceaseless change 

Vary to our great Maker still new praise. 

Ye mists and exhalations that now rise 

From hill or steaming lake, dusky or grey, 

Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold, 

In honour to the world's great author rise. 

Whether to deck with clouds the uncolour'd sky 

Or wet the thirsty earth with falling showers. 

Rising or falling still advance his praise. 

His praise, ye winds that from four quarters blow. 

Breathe soft or loud ; and wave your tops, ye pines, 

With every plant, in sign of worship wave. 

Fountains and ye that warble, as ye flow. 

Melodious murmurs, warbling tune his praise ; 

Join voices, all ye living souls, ye birds. 

That singing up to heaven gate ascend. 

Bear on your Avings and in 5^our notes his praise ; 

Ye that in waters glide, and ye that walk 

The earth, and stately tread, or lowly creep ; 

Witness if I be silent, morn or even, 

To hill, or valley, fountain, or fresh shade, 

Made vocal by my song, and taught his praise. 

Hail univeral Lord, be bounteous still 

To give us only good ; and if the night 

Have gather'd aught of evil, or conceal'd, 

Disperse it, as now light dispels the dark. 

So pray'd they innocent, and to their thoughts 
Firm peace recover'd soon and wonted calm, 
On to their morning's rural work they haste. 
Among sweet dews and flowers, where any row 
Of fruit-trees over woody reach'd too far 
Their pamper'd boughs, and needed hands to check 
Fruitless embraces : or they led the vine 
To wed her ehn ; she spoused about him twines 
Her marriageable arms, and with her brings 
Her dower, th' adopted clusters, to adorn 
His barren leaves. Them thus employ 'd beheld 
With pity heav'n's high King, and to Him called 
Raphael, the sociable spirit, that deign'd 
To travel w ith Tobias, and secured 
His marriage with the seventimes-wedded maid. 

Raphael, said he, thou hear'st what stir on earth 
Satan, from hell scap'd through the darksome gulf. 
Hath raised in paradise, and how disturl)'d 






.'.¥1!f^ 









/ 




PA RA DISE LOST. 



83 



This night the huuiau pair, how he designs 

In them at once to ruin all mankind : 

Go therefore, half this day as friend with friend 

Converse with Adam, in what bower or shade 

Thou find'st him from the heat of noon retired, 

To respite his daj'-labour with repast, 

Or with repose ; and such discourse bring on, 

As may ad\'ise him of his happ}' state, 

Happiness in his power left free to will, 

Left to his own free will, his will though free. 

Yet mutable ; whence warn him to beware 

He swerA'e not too secure ; tell him withal 

His danger, and from whom ; what enemy 

Late fall'n himself from heaven, is plotting now 

The fall of others from like state of bliss ; 

By violence? no ; for that shall be withstood, 

But by deceit and lies ; this let him know. 

Lest wilfully transgressing he pretend 

Sui*prisal, unadmonish'd, unforewarn'd. 

So spake th' eternal Father, and fulfill'd 
All justice : nor delay'd the winged saint 
After his charge received ; but from among 
Thousand celestial ardours, where he stood 
Veil'd with his gorgeous wings, up springing light 
Flew through the midst of heav'n ; th' angelic choirs, 
On each hand parting, to his speed gave way 
Through all th' empyreal road ; till at the gate 
Of heav'n arrived, the gate self-open'd wide 
On golden hinges ti:rning, as by work 
Divine the sov'reign Architect had framed. 
From hence, no cloud, or, to obstruct his sight. 
Star interposed, however small he sees. 
Not unconform to other shining globes. 
Earth and the garden of God, \^ith cedars crown'd 
Above all hills : as when by night the glass 
Of Galileo, less assured, observes 
Imagined lands and regions in the moon : 
Or jailot from amidst the Cyclades 
Delos, or Samos, first appearing kens 
A cloud}^ spot. Down thither prone in flight 
He speeds, and through the vast ethereal sky 
Sails between worlds and worlds, with steady wing 
Now on the polar winds, then with quick fan 
Winnows the buxom air ; till within soar 
Of towering eagles, to all the fowls he seems 
A phoenix, gazed by all, as that sole bird, 
\\^len, to ensluine his reliques in the sun's 
Bright temple, to ^?igyptian Thebes he flies. 
At once on th' eastern cliff of paradise 
He lights, and to his proper shape returns 








&Ac^. 





84 



PARADISE LOST. 





A seraph ■wing'd : six wings he wore, to shade 

His lineaments divine ; the pair that clad 

Each shoulder broad came mantling o'er his breast 

With regal ornament ; the middle pair 

Girt like a starry zone his waist, and round 

Skirted his loins and thighs with downy gold 

And colours dipp'd in heav'n ; the third his feet 

Shadow'd from either heel with feather'd mail 

Sky-tinctured grain. Like Maia's son he stood, 

And shook his plumes, that heav'nly fragrance fill'd 

The circuit wide. Straight knew him all the bands 

Of angels under watch ; and to his state. 

And to his message high, in honour rise ; 

For on some message high they guess' d him bound. 

Their glittering tents he pass'd, and now is come 

Into the blissful field, through groves of myrrh, 

And flow'ring odours, cassia, nard, and balm ; 

A wilderness of sweets ; for nature here 

Wanton'd as in her prime, and play'd at will 

Her virgin fancies, pouring forth more sweet. 

Wild above rule or art ; enormous bliss. 

Him through the spicy forest onward come 

Adam discern'd, as in the door he sat 

Of his cool bower, while now the mounted sun 

Shot down direct his fervid rays, to warm 

Earth's inmost womb, more warmth than Adam needs; 

And Eve within, due at her hour prepared 

For dinner savoury fruits, of taste to please 

True appetite, and not disrelish thirst 

Of uectaroi:s draughts between, from milky stream, 

Berr)-, or grape, to whom thus Adam call'd 

Haste hither. Eve, and worth thy sight behold 
Eastward among those trees, what glorious shape 
Comes this way moving, seems another morn 
Ris'n on mid-noon ; some great behest from heav'n 
To i:s perhaps he brings, and will vouchsafe 
This day to be our guest. But go with speed, 
And what thy stores contain bring forth, and pour 
Abundance, fit to honour and receive 
Our heav'nly stranger ; well we may afford 
Our givers their own gifts, and large bestow 
From large bestow'd, where nature multiplies 
Her fertile growth, and by disburd'ning grows 
More fruitful ; which instructs lis not to spare. 

To whom thus Eve. Adam, earth's hallow'd mould, 
Of God inspired, small store will ser\-e, v.here store 
All seasons ripe for \ise hangs on the stalk ; 
Save what by frugal storing firmness gains 
To nourish, and superfluous moist consumes. 
But I will haste, and from each bough and brake, 



■€^ 



W 






"i PARADISE LOST. 85 

1 ' Each plant and juiciest gonrd, will pluck such choice 

A ^ , I To entertain our angel guest, as he 

, V; 1' Beholding shall confess, that here on earth 

Y 111,, I ii . God hath dispensed his bounties as in heav'n. 

I I , So saying, with dispatchful looks in haste 

/V^ ,* She turns, on hospitable thoughts intent 

j0\ * 1 ' What choice to choose for delicacy best, 

^ f^ I What order, so contrived as not to mix 

p,'/\|j|iil Tastes, not well join'd, inelegant, but bring 

: ' ^^ i ill ' Taste after taste upheld with kindliest change ; 

' I Bestirs her then, and from each tender stalk 

" ' Whatever earth, all-bearing mother, yields 

In India east or west, or middle shore 
In Pontus, or the Punic coast, or where 
Alcinous reign'd, fruit of all kinds, in coat, 
; Rough, or smooth rin'd, or bearded husk, or shell, 

She gathers, tribute large, and on the board 
Heaps with unsparing hand : for drink the grape 
1 She crushes, inoffensive must, and meathes 

From many a berry, and from sweet kernels press'd 
She tempers dulcet creams, nor these to hold 
Wants her fit vessels pure ; then strews the ground 
With rose and odours from the shrub unfumed. 
I Meanwhile our primitive great sire, to meet 

i His god-like guest, walks forth, without more train 

Accompanied than with his own complete 
Perfections ; in himself was all his state, 
i More solemn than the tedious pomp that waits 

,| On princes, when their rich retinue long 

Of horses led and grooms besmear' d with gold 
Dazzles the crowd, and sets them all agape. 
Nearer his presence Adam, though not awed, 
Yet with submiss approach and reverence meek, 
As to a superior nature, bowing low. 
Thus said. Native of heav'n, for other place 
None can than heav'n such glorious shape contain, 
Since by descending from the thrones above, 
Those happy places thou hast deign'd a while 
To want, and honour these, vouchsafe with us 
Two only, who yet by sov'reign gift possess 
This spacious ground, in yonder shady bower 
To rest, and what the garden choicest bears 
To sit and taste, till this meridian heat 
Be over, and the sun more cool decline. 

Whom thus the angelic Virtue answer'd mild. 
Adam, I therefore came, nor art thou such 
Created, or such place hast here to dwell. 
As may not oft invite, though spirits of heav'n, 
To ^^sit thee : lead on then where thy bower 
O'ershades : for these mid-hours, till ev'ning rise. 



3 







I have at will. So to the sylvan lodge 

They came, that like Pomona's arbour smiled 

With flow'rets deck'd and fragrant smells : but Eve 

Undeck'd, save with herself, more lovely fair 

Than wood-nymph, or the fairest goddess feign'd 

Of three that in Mount Ida naked strove. 

Stood to entertain her guest from heav'n ; no veil 

She needed, virtue-proof ; no thought infirm 

Alter'd her cheek. On whom the angel Hail 

Bestow' d, the holy salutation used 

Long after to blest Mary, second Eve. 

Hail, mother of mankind, whose fruitful womb 
Shall fill the world more numerous with thy sons, 
Than with these various fruits the trees of God 
Have heap'd this table. Raised of grassy turf 
Their table was, and mossy seats had round, 
And on her ample square from side to side 
All autumn piled, though spring and autumn here 
Danced hand in hand. A while discourse they hold, 
Nor fear lest dinner cool, when thus begun 
Our author. Heav'nly stranger, please to taste 
These bounties which our Nourisher, from whom 
All perfect good unmeasured out descends. 
To us for food and for delight hath caused 
The earth to yield ; unsavoury food, perhaps. 
To spiritual natures : onl}' this I know, 
That one celestial Father gives to all. 

To whom the angel. Therefore what He gives, 
Whose praise be ever sung, to man in part 
Spiritual, may of purest spirits be found 
No ingrateful food : and food alike those pure 
Intelligential substances require. 
As doth your rational ; and both contain 
Within them every lower faculty 

Of sense, whereby they hear, see, smell, touch, taste. 
Tasting concoct, digest, assimilate. 
And corporeal to incorporeal turn. 
For know, whatever was created needs 
To be sustain'd and fed ; of elements 
The grosser feeds the purer ; earth the sea ; 
Earth and the sea feed air ; the air those fires 
Ethereal ; and as lowest first the moon ; 
Whence in her visage round those spots, unpurged 
Vapours not yet into her substance turn'd. 
Nor doth the moon no nourishment exhale 
From her moist continent to higher orbs 
The sun, that light imparts to all, receives 
From all his alimental recompence 
In humid exhalations, and at even 
Sups with the ocean. Though in heav'n the trees 









PARADISE LOST. 



87 




C 




Of life ambrosial fruitage bear, and \'ines 

Yield nectar ; tho' from off the boughs each morn 

We brush mellifluous dews, and find the ground 

Cover'd with pearly grain ; yet God hath here 

Varied his bounty so with new delights, 

As may compare wath heaven ; and to taste 

Think not I shall be nice. So down they sat, 

And to their viands fell ; nor seemingly 

The angel, nor in mist, the common gloss 

Of theologians, but with keen dispatch 

Of real hunger, and concoctive heat 

To transubstantiate : what redounds, transpires 

Through spirits with ease ; nor wonder ; if b}^ fire 

Of sooty coal the empyric alchymist 

Can turn, or holds it possible to turn, 

Metals of drossiest ore to perfect gold 

As from the mine. Meanwhile at table Eve 

Minister'd naked, and their flowing cups 

With pleasant liquors crown' d. O innocence 

Deserving paradise ! if ever, then. 

Then had the sons of God excuse to have been 

Enamour'd at that sight ; but in those hearts 

Love unlibidinous reign'd, nor jealousy 

Was understood, the injured lover's hell. 

Thus when with meats and drinks they had sufiiced, 
Not burden'd nature, sudden mind arose 
In Adam, not to let th' occasion pass. 
Given him by this great conference, to know 
Of things above his world, and of their being 
^\^lo dwell in heav'n, whose excellence he saw 
Transcend his own so far ; whose radiant forms, 
Divine effulgence, whose high power so far 
Exceeded human ; and his wary speech 
Thus to th' empyreal minister he framed. 

Inhabitant with God, now know I well 
Thy favour, in this honor done to man. 
Under whose lowly roof thou hast vouchsafed 
To enter, and these earthly fruits to taste, 
Food not of angels, yet accepted so. 
As that more w-illing'ly thou could'st not seem 
At heav'n's high feasts to have fed : yet w^hat compare ? 

To whom the winged Hierarch replied. 
O Adam, one Almighty is, from whom 
All things proceed, and up to Him return, 
If not depraved from good, created all 
Such to perfection, one first matter all. 
Indued with various forms, various degrees 
Of substance, and, in things that live, of life : 
But more refined, more spirituous, and pure, 
As nearer to Him placed, or nearer tending, 





8S 



PARADISE LOST. 



m 




%'. 


\ ^ \ ■ 




Each m their several active spheres assign'd, 

Till body up to spirit work, in bounds 

Proportion'd to each kind. So from the root 

Springs lighter the green stalk, from thence the leave 

More aery, last the bright consummate flow'r 

Spirits odorous breathes ; flowers and their fruit, 

Man's nourishment, by gradual scale sublimed, 

To vital spirits aspire, to animal, 

To intellectual, give both life and sense, 

Fancy and understanding ; whence the soul 

Reason receives, and reason is her being, 

Discursive or intuitive ; discourse 

Is oftest yours, the latter most is ours, 

Differing but in degree, of kind the same. 

Wonder not then, what God for you saw good 

If I refuse not, but convert, as you, 

To proper substance : time may come, when men 

With angels may participate, and find 

No inconvenient diet, nor too light fare : 

And from these corporal nutriments perhaps 

Your bodies may at last turn all to spirit, 

Improved by tract of time, and wing'd ascend 

Ethereal, as we, or may at choice 

Here or in heav'nly paradises dwell ; 

If ye be found obedient, and retain 

Unalterably firm His love entire. 

Whose progeny you are Meanwhile enjoy 

Your fill what happiness this happy state 

Can comprehend, incapable of more. 

To whom the patriarch of mankind replied. 
O favourable spirit, propitious guest, 
Well hast thou taught the way that might direct 
Our knowledge, and the scale of nature set 
From centre to circumference, whereon 
In contemplation of created things 
By steps we may ascend to God. But say, 
What meant that caution join'd, If ye be fouml 
Obedient ? Can we want obedience then 
To him, or possibly his love desert, 
Who form'd us from the dust and placed us here 
Full to the utmost measure of what bliss 
Human desires can seek or apprehend ? 

To whom the angel. Son of heav'n and earth 
Attend : that thou art happy, owe to God ; 
That thou continu'st such, owe to thyself. 
That is, to thy obedience ; therein stand. 
This was that caution given thee ; be ad\nsed, 
God made thee perfect, not immutable ; 
And good He made thee, bvit to persevere 
He left it in thy power ; ordain'd thy will 



^ 



//// 





PARADISE LOST, 



89 




4 ■^^'Wi. 



B)' nature free, not over-ruled by fate 
Inextricable, or strict necessity : 
Our voluntary service he requires, 
Not our necessitated, such, with him 
Finds no acceptance, nor can find ; for how 
Can hearts, not free, be tried whether they serve 
Willing or no, who will but what they must 
By destiny, and can no other choose? 
Myself and all th' angelic host, that stand 
In sight of God enthroned, our happy state 
Hold, as you j^ours, while our obedience holds ; 
On other surety none ; freely we serve, 
Because we freely love, as in our will 
To love or not ; in this we stand or fall. 
And some are faH'n, to disobedience fall'n. 
And some from heaven to deepest hell : O fall 
From what high state of bliss into what woe ! 

To whom our great progenitor. Thy words 
Attentive, and with more delighted ear. 
Divine instructor, I have heard, than when 
Cherubic songs by night from neighbouring hills 
Aereal music send : nor knew I not 
To be both will and deed created free ; 
Yet that we never shall forget to love 
Our Maker, and obey Him whose command 
Single is yet so just, my constant thoughts 
Assured me, and still assure : though what thou tell'st 
Hath past in heav'n, some doubt within me move, 
But more desire to hear, if thou consent. 
The full relation, which must needs be strange, 
Worthy of sacred silence to be heard ; 
And we have yet large day, for scarce the sun 
Hath finish'd half his journey, and scarce begins 
His other half in the great zone of heav'n. 

Thus Adam made request, and Raphael, 
After short pause, assenting thus began 

High matter thou enjoin'st me, O prime of men, 
Sad task and hard ; for how shall I relate 
To human sense th' invisible exploits 
Of warring spirits? how without remorse 
The ruin of so many, glorious once 
And perfect while they stood ? how last unfold 
The secrets of another world, perhaps 
Not lawful to reveal ? yet for thy good. 
This is dispensed, and what surmounts the reach 
Of human sense I shall delineate so. 
By lik'ning spiritual to corporal forms, 
As may express them best ; though what if earth 
Be but the shadow of heav'n ; and things therein 
Each to other like, more than on earth is thought ? 





7 




W 



r 



PARADISE LOST. 



As yet this world was not, and Chaos wild 
Reign'd where theseheav'nsnowroU, where earth nowrests 
Upon her centre poised, when on a day, 
For time, though in eternity, applied 
To motion , measures all things durable 
By present, past, and future ; on such day 
As heav'n's great year brings forth, th' empyreal host 
Of angels, by imperial summons call'd. 
Innumerable before th' Almighty's throne 
Forthwith from all the ends of heav'n appear'd : 
Under their hierarchs in orders bright 
Ten thousand thousand ensigns high advanced, 
Standards and gonfalons 'twixt van and rear 
Stream in the air, and for distinction serve 
Of hierarchies, of orders, and degrees : 
Or in their glittering tissues bear imblazed 
Holy memorials, acts of zeal and love 
Recorded eminent. Thus when in orbs 
Of circuit inexpressible they stood, 
Orb within orb, the Father infinite, 
B)' whom in bliss imbosom'd sat the Son, 
Amidst as from a flaming mount, whose top 
Brightness had made invisible, thus spake. 

Hear all ye Angels, progeny of light, 
Thrones, Dominations, Princedoms, Virtues, Powers, 
Hear my decree, which unrevoked shall stand. 
This day I have begot whom I declare 
My only Son, and on this holy hill 
Him have anointed, whom ye now behold 
At my right hand ; your head I him appoint ; 
And by my Self, have sworn to him shall bow 
All knees in heav'n, and shall confess him Lord. 
Under his great vice-gerent reign abide 
United, as one individual soul. 
For ever happy : him who disobeys 
Me disobeys, breaks union, and, that day 
Cast out from God and blessed vision, falls 
Into utter darkness, deep ingulf d, his place 
Ordain'd without redemption, without end. 

So spake th' Omnipotent, and with his words 
All seemed well pleased; all seem'd, but were not all. 
That day, as other solemn days, they spent 
In song and dance about the sacred hill. 
Mystical dance, which yonder starry sphere 
Of planets and of fix'd in all her wheels 
Resembles nearest, mazes intricate. 
Eccentric, intervolved, yet regular 
Then most, when most irregular they seem ; 
And in their motions harmony divine 
So smooths her charmnig tones, that God's own ear 




m 









*^ 





Listens delighted. Ev'niug now approach'd, 

For we have also our ev'ning and our morn, 

We ours for change delectable, not need, 

Forthwith from dance to sweet repast they turn 

Desirous, all in circles as they stood, 

Tables are set, and on a sudden piled 

With angels' food, and rubied nectar flows, 

In pearl, in diamond, and massy gold ; 

Fruit of delicious vines, the growth of heav'n. 

On flow'rs reposed and with fresh flowerets crown'd, 

They eat, they drink, and in communion sweet 

Quaff immortality and joy, secure 

Of surfeit where full measure only bounds 

Excess, before th' all-bounteous King, who show'r'd 

With copious hand, rejoicing in their joy. 

Now when ambrosial night with clouds exhaled 

From that high mount of God, whence light and shade 

Spring both, the face of brightest heav'n had changed 

To grateful twilight, for night comes not there 

In darker veil, and roseate dews disposed 

All but the unsleeping eyes of God to rest ; 

Wide over all the plain, and wider far 

Than all this globous earth in plain outspread. 

Such are the courts of God, th' angelic throng 

Dispersed in bands and files, their camp extend 

By li\nng streams among the trees of life. 

Pavilions numberless and sudden rear'd, 

Celestial tabernacles, where they slept 

Fann'd with cool winds, save those who in their course 

Melodious hymns about the sov'reign throne 

Alternate all night long. But not so waked 

Satan, so call him now, his former name 

Is heard no more in heav'n ; he of the first 

If not the first arch-angel, great in power. 

In favour and pre-eminence, yet fraught 

With envy against the Son of God, that day 

Honour' d by his great Father, and proclaim' d 

Messiah King anointed, could not bear 

Thro' pride that sight, and thought himself impair'd. 

Deep malice thence conceiving and disdain. 

Soon as midnight brought on the dusky hour. 

Friendliest to sleep and silence, he resolved 

With all his legions to dislodge, and leave 

Unworshipp'd, unobey'd, the throne supreme. 

Contemptuous, and his next subordinate 

Awak'ning, thus to him in secret spake. 

Sleep'st thou, companion dear, what sleep can close 
Thv eyelids? and remember' st what decree 
Of vesterdav so late hath past the lips 
Of heav'n's'Alnughtv ? Thou to mc tin thoughts 








92 



PARADISE LOST. 




"Wast wont, I mine to thee was wont to impart : 

Both waking we were one ; how then can now 

Thy sleep dissent ? new laws thou see'st imposed ; 

New laws from Him who reigns new minds may raise 

In us who serve, new counsels, to debate 

What doubtful may ensue ; more in this place 

To utter is not safe. Assemble thou 

Of all those myriads which we lead the chief: 

Tell them, that by command, ere yet dim night 

Her shadowy cloud withdraws, I am to haste, 

And all who under me their banners wave. 

Homeward with flying march, where we possess 

The quarters of the north, there to prepare 

Fit entertainment to receive our King 

The great Messiah, and his new commands ; 

"Who speedily through all the hierarchies 

Intends to pass triumphant, and give laws. 

So spake the false arch-angel, and infused 
Bad influence into th' unwary breast 
Of his associate ; he together calls, 
Or several one by one, the regent Powers, 
Under him regent, tells, as he was taught. 
That, the Most High commanding, now ere night, 
Now ere dim night had disincumber'd heav'n, 
The great hierarchial standard was to move ; 
Tells the suggested cause, and casts between 
Ambiguous words and jealousies, to sound 
Or taint integrity : but all obey'd 
The wonted signal, and superior voice 
Of their great potentate ; for great indeed 
His name, and high was his degree in heav'n ; 
His count' nance, as the morning star that guides 
The starry flock, allured them, and with lies 
Drew after him the third part of heav'n's host. 

Meanwhile th' eternal Eye, whose sight discerns 
Abstrusest thoughts, from forth His holy mount, 
And from within the golden lamps that burn 
Nightly before Him, saw without their light 
Rebellion rising, saw in whom, how spread 
Among the sons of morn, what multitudes 
"Were banded to oppose His high decree ; 
And smiling to His only Son thus said. 

Son, thou in whom my glory I behold 
In full resplendence, heir of all my might, 
Nearly it now concerns us to be sure 
Of cm: omnipotence, and vnth what arms 
"We mean to hold what anciently we claim 
Of deity or empire ; such a foe 
Is rising, who intends to erect his throne 
Equal to ours, throughout the spacious north ; 








PARADISE LOST. 



93 




*%, 



Nor so content, hath in his thought to try 
In battle what our power is, or our right. 
Let us advise, and to this hazard draw 
With speed what force is left, and all employ 
In our defence, lest unawares we lose 
This our high place, our sanctuarj^ our hill. 

To whom the Son with calm aspect and clear 
Light'ning divine, ineffable, serene. 
Made answer. Mighty Father, Thou Thy foes 
Justly hast in derision, and secure 
Laugh'st at their vain designs and tumults vain, 
Matter to me of glory, whom their hate 
Illustrates, when they see all regal power 
Giv'n me to quell their pride, and in event 
Know whether I be dexterous to subdue 
Thy rebels, or be found the worst in heav'n. 

So spake the Son : but Satan with his powers 
Far was advanced on winged speed, an host 
Innumerable as the stars of night. 
Or stars of morning, dewdrops, which the sun 
Impearls on every leaf and every flower. 
Regions they pass'd, the mighty regencies 
Of Seraphim, and Potentates, and Thrones 
In their triple degrees, regions to which 
All thy dominion, Adam, is no more 
Than what this garden is to all the earth. 
And all the sea, from one entire globose 
Stretch'd into longitude ; which having pass'd, 
At length into the limits of the north 
They came, and Satan to his royal seat 
High on a hill, far blazing, as a mount 
Raised on a mount, with pyramids and tow^'rs 
From diamond quarries hewn, and rocks of gold. 
The palace of great Lucifer ; so call 
That structure in the dialect of men 
Interpreted, which not long after he, 
Affecting all equality with GOD, 
In imitation of that mount whereon 
INIessiah was declared in sight of heav'n, 
The mountain of the congregation call'd ; 
For thither he assembled all his train, 
Pretending so commanded to consult 
About the great reception of their king. 
Thither to come, and with calumnious art 
Of counterfeited truth thus held their ears. 

Thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers. 
If these magnific titles yet remain 
Not merely titular, since by decree 
Another now hath to himself ingross'd 
All power, and us eclipsed under the name 












PARADISE LOS 7 



Of king anointed, for whom all this haste 

Of midnight inarch and hurried meeting here, 

This only to consult how we may best 

With what may be devised of honours new 

Receive him, coming to receive from us 

Knee-tribute 3'et unpaid, prostration vile, 

Too much to one, but double how endured, 

To one and to his image now proclaim'd? 

But what if better counsels might erect 

Our minds, and teach us to cast off this yoke? 

Will ye submit your necks, and choose to bend 

The supple knee ? ye will not, if I trust 

To know ye right, or if ye know yourselves 

Natives and sons of heav'n, possest before 

By none, and if not equal all, yet free, 

Equally free ; for orders and degrees 

Jar not with liberty, but well consist. 

Who can in reason then or right assume 

Monarchy over such as live by right 

His equals, if in power and splendour less. 

In freedom equal ? or can introduce 

Law and edict on us, who without law 

Err not? much less for this to be our Lord, 

And look for adoration, to th' abuse 

Of those imperial titles, which assert 

Our being ordain 'd to govern, not to serve ? 

Thus far his bold discourse without control 
Had audience, when among the seraphim 
Abdiel, than whom none with more zeal adored 
The Deity, and divine commands obey'd. 
Stood up, and in a flame of zeal severe 
The current of his fury thus opposed. 

O argument blasphemous, false, and proud, 
Words which no ear ever to hear in heav'n 
Expected, least of all from thee, ingrate, 
In place thyself so high above thy peers. 
Canst thou with impious obloquy condemn 
The just decree of God, pronounced and sworn. 
That to His only Son, by right endued 
With regal sceptre, every soul in heav'n 
Shall bend the knee, and in that honour due 
Confess him rightful king? unjust thou say'st, 
Flatly unjust, to bind with laws the free, 
And equal over equals to let reign, 
One over all with unsucceeded power. 
Shalt thou give law to God ? shalt thou dispute 
With him the points of liberty, who made 
Thee what thou art, and form'd the pow'rs of heav'n 
Such as he pleased, and circumscribed their being? 
Yet by experience taught we know how good. 





^% 







PARADISE LOST. 



95 



And of our good, and of our dignity 

How provident He is, how far from thought 

To make us less, bent rather to exalt 

Our happy state under one head more near 

United. But to grant it thee unjust. 

That equal over equals monarch reign : 

Thyself though great and glorious dost thou count. 

Or all angelic nature join'd in one, 

Equal to him begotten Son, by whom 

As by His word the mighty Father made 

All things, ev'n thee, and all the spirits of heav'n 

By him created in their bright degrees, 

Crown'd them with glory, and to their glory named 

Thrones, dominations, princedoms, \drtues, powers. 

Essential powers ; nor by his reign obscured. 

But more illustrious made, since he the head 

One of our number thus reduced becomes ; 

His laws our laws, all honour to him done 

Returns our own. Cease then this impious rage, 

And tempt not these ; but hasten to appease 

Th' incensed Father, and tli' incensed Son, 

While pardon may be found in time besought. 

So spake the fer\^ent angel ; but his zeal 
None seconded, as out of season judged 
Or singular and rash ; whereat rejoiced 
Th' Apostate, and more haughty thus replied. 

That we were form'd then say'st thou ? and the work 
Of secondary hands, by task transferr'd 
From Father to his Son ? strange point and new ! 
Doctrine which we w'ould know whence learn'd : who saw 
When this creation was ? remember'st thou 
Thy making, while the Maker gave thee being ? 
We know no time when we were not as now ; 
Know none before us, self-begot, self-raised 
By our own quick'ning power, when fatal course 
Had circled his full orb, the birth mature 
Of this our native heav'n, ethereal sons. 
Our puissance is our own, our own right hand 
Shall teach us highest deeds, by proof to try 
Who is our equal : then thou shalt behold 
Whether by supplication we intend 
Address, and to begird th' Almighty throne 
Beseeching or besieging. This report. 
These tidings carry to th' anointed king ; 
And fl}-, ere evil intercept thy flight. 

He said, and, as the sound of waters deep, 
Hoarse murmur echo'd to his words applause 
Through the infinite host ; nor less for that 
The flaming seraph fearless, though alone 
Encompass'd round with foes, thus answer'd bold. 





- ,* 





96 



PARADISE LOST. 




O alienate from God, O spirit accurst, 
Forsaken of all good, I see thy fall 
Determined, and thy hapless crew involved 
In this perfidious fraud, contagion spread 
Both of thy crime and punishment. Henceforth 
No more be troubled how to quit the yoke 
Of God's Messiah ; those indulgent laws 
Will not be now vouchsafed, other decrees 
Against thee are gone forth without recall : 
That golden sceptre which thou didst reject 
Is now an iron rod, to bruise and break 
Thy disobedience. "Well thou didst advise ; 
Yet not for thy advice or threats I fly 
These wicked tents devoted, lest the wrath 
Impendent raging into sudden flame 
Distinguish not ; for soon expect to feel 
His thunder on thy head, devouring fire. 
Then who created thee lamenting learn, 
"When who can uncreate thee thou shalt know. 

So spake the seraph Abdiel faithful found, 
Among the faithless faithful only he : 
Among innumerable false unmoved, 
"Unshaken, unseduced, unterrified. 
His loyalty he kept, his love, his zeal ; 
Nor number, nor example with faim wrought 
To swerve from truth, or change hi^ constant mind 
Though single. From amidst them forth he pass'd. 
Long way through hostile scorn, which he sustain'd 
Superior, nor of violence fear'd aught; 
And with retorted scorn his back he turn'd 
On those proud tow'rs to swift destruction doom'd. 



yy-y 





'V 




PARADISE LOST. 



97 



BOOK VI. 



The Argument. 

Raphael continues to relate how Michael and Gabriel were sent 
forth to battle against Satan and his angels. The first fight de- 
scribed : Satan and his powers retire undernight : he calls a council, 
invents devilish engines, which in the second day's fight put 
Michael and his angels to some disorder ; but they at length pulling 
up mountains overwhelmed both the force and machines of Satan , 
yet the tumult not so ending, God on the third day sends Messiah 
his Son, for whom he had reserved the glory of that victory. He 
in the power of his Father coming to the place and causing all his 
legions to stand still on either side, with his chariot and thunder 
driving into the midst of his enemies, pursues them unable to resist 
towards the w^all of heaven ; which opening, they leap down with 
horror and confusion into the place of punishment prepared for them 
in the deep. Messiah returns with triumph to his Father. 



K\x, niglit the dreadless angel unpursued 

Through, heav'n's wide champaign held his wa}', till morn. 

Waked by the circling hours, with rosy hand 

Unbarr'd the gates of light. There is a cave 

Within the mount of God, fast by his throne. 

Where light and darkness in perpetual round 

Lodge and dislodge by turns, which makes through heav'n 

Grateful vicissitude, like day and night : 

Light issues forth, and at the other door 

Obsequious darkness enters, till her hour 

To veil the heav'n, though darkness there might well 

Seem twilight here ; and now went forth the mom 

Such as in highest heav'n, array'd in gold 

Empyreal, from before her vanish'd night, 

Shot through with orient beams : when all the plain 

Cover'd with thick embattled squadrons bright. 

Chariots, and flaming arms, and fiery steeds, 

Reflecting blaze on blaze, first met his view. 

AVar he perceived, war in procinct, and found 

Already known what he for news had thought 

To have reported : gladly then he mix'd 

Among those friendly powers, who him received 

With joy and acclamations loud, that one. 

That of so many myriads fall'n yet one 

Return'd not lost. On to the sacred hill 

They led him high applauded, and present 

Before the seat supreme ; from whence a voice 

From midst a golden cloud thus mild was heard. 








PARADISE LOST. 



ill v.\ 



All' 



! ftp \'. \* 

llill 'W 






t' 




Servant of God, well done, well hast thou fought 
The better fight, who single hast maintain 'd 
Against revolted multitudes the cause 
Of truth, in word mightier than they in arms ; 
And for the testimony of truth hast borne 
Universal reproach, far w^orse to bear 
Than violence : for this was all thy care, 
To stand approved in sight of God, though worlds 
Judged thee perverse. The easier conquest now 
Remains thee, aided by this host of friends, 
Back on thy foes more glorious to return 
Than scorn 'd thou didst depart, and to subdue 
By force, who reason for their law refuse, 
Right reason for their law, and for their king 
Messiah, who by right of merit reigns. 
Go, Michael of celestial armies prince. 
And thou, in military prowess next, 
Gabriel, lead forth to battle these my sons 
Invincible, lead forth my armed Saints 
By thousands and by millions ranged for fight ; 
Equal in number to that godless crew 
Rebellious; them with fire and hostile arms 
Fearless assault, and to the brow of heav'n 
Pursuing drive them out from God and bliss. 
Into their place of punishment, the gulf 
Of Tartarus, which ready opens wide 
His fiery chaos to receive their fall. 

So spake the sovereign voice, and clouds began 
To darken all the hill, a:nd smoke to roll 
In dusky wreaths reluctant flames, the sign 
Of wrath awaked : nor with less dread the loiid 
Ethereal trumpet from on high gan blow : 
At which command the powers militant 
That stood for heav'n, in mighty quadrate join'd 
Of union irresistible, moved on 
In silence their bright legions, to the sound 
Of instrumental harmony, that breathed 
Heroic ardour to advent' rous deeds, 
Under their godlike leaders, in the cause 
Of God and his Messiah. On they move 
Indissolubly firm : nor obvious hill. 
Nor strait'ning vale, nor wood, nor stream, divides 
Their perfect ranks ; for high above the ground 
Their march was, and the passive air uplDore 
Their nimble tread ; as when the total kind 
Of birds in orderly array on wing 
Came summon 'd over Eden to receive 
Their names of thee : so over many a tract 
Of heav'n they march'd, and many a province wide 
Tenfold the length of this terrene. At last 



> 








PARADISE LOST. 



99 






,iiu.uiiji'i4i.' 



/ 



Far iu the horizon to the north appear'd 

From skirt to skirt a fiery region, stretch'd 

In battailous aspect, and nearer view 

Bristled with upright beams innumerable 

Of rigid spears, and helmets throng'd, and shields 

Various, with boastful argument pourtray'd, 

The banded powers of Satan hasting on 

With furious expedition ; for they ween'd 

That self-same day, by fight or by surprise. 

To win the mount of God, and on his throne 

To set the envier of his state, the proud 

Aspirer ; but their thoughts proved fond and vain 

In the mid way. Though strange to us it seem'd 

At first, that angel should with angel war. 

And in fierce hosting meet, who wont to meet 

So oft in festivals of joy and love 

Unanimous, as sons of one great Sire, 

Hymning th' eternal Father; but the shout 

Of battle now began, and rushing sound 

Of onset ended soon each milder thought. 

High in the midst exalted as a God 

Th' apostate in his sun-bright chariot sat, 

Idol of Majesty divine, enclosed 

With flaming Cherubim and golden shields : 

Then lighted from his gorgeous throne, for now 

'Twixt host and host but narrow space was left, 

A dreadful interval, and front to front 

Presented stood in terrible array 

Of hideous length : before the cloudy van, 

On the rough edge of battle ere it join'd, 

Satan, with vast and haughty strides advanced. 

Came tow'ring, arm'd in adamant and gold : 

Abdiel that sight endured not, where he stood 

Among the mightiest, bent on highest deeds. 

And thus his own undaunted heart explores. 

O heav'n ! that such resemblance of the Highest 
Should yet remain, where faith and realty 
Remain not ; wherefore should not strength and might 
There fail where virtue fails, or weakest prove 
Where boldest, though to sight unconquerable? 
His puissance, trusting in th' Almighty's aid. 
I mean to try, whose reason I have tried 
Unsound and false ; nor is it aught but just, 
That he, who in debate of truth hath won. 
Should win in arms, in both disputes alike 
Victor: though brutish that contest and foul, 
When reason hath to deal with force, yet so 
Most reason is that reason overcome. 

So pondering, and, from his armed peers 
Forth stepping opposite, half way he met 







PARADISE LOST. 



'¥. 




His daring foe, at this prevention more 
Incensed, and thus securely him defied. 

Proud, art thou met? thy hope was to have reach'd 
The highth of thy aspiring unopposed, 
The throne of God unguarded, and his side 
Abandon'd at the terror of thy power 
Or potent tongue : fool, not to think how vain 
Against th' Omnipotent to rise in arms : 
Who out of smallest things could without end 
Have raised incessant armies to defeat 
Thy folly ; or, with solitary hand 
Reaching beyond all limit, at one blow 
Unaided could have finish'd thee, and whelm'd 
Thy legions under darkness : but thou seest 
All are not of thy train ; there be, who faith 
Prefer and piety to God ; though then 
To thee not visible, when I alone 
Seem'd in thy world erroneous to dissent 
From all : my sect thou seest ; now learn too late 
How few sometimes may know, when thousands err. 

Whom the grand foe, with scornful eye askance, 
Thus answer' d. 111 for thee, but in wish d hour 
Of my revenge, first sought for thou return 'st 
From flight, seditious angel, to receive 
Thy merited reward, the first assay 
Of this right hand provoked, since first that tongue 
Inspired with contradiction durst oppose 
A third part of the Gods, in synod met 
Their deities to assert, who while they feel 
Vigour divine within them, can allow 
Omnipotence to none. But well thou com'st 
Before thy fellows, ambitious to win 
From me some plume, that thy success may show 
Destruction to the rest : this pause between, 
Unanswer'd lest thou boast, to let thee know. 
At first I thought that liberty and heav'n 
To heav'nly souls had been all one ; but now 
I see that most through sloth had rather sers-e, 
Minist'ring spirits, train'd up in feast and song ; 
Such hast thou arm'd, the minstrelsy of heav'n, 
Servility with freedom to contend, 
As both their deeds compared this day shall prove. 

To whom in brief thus Abdiel stern replied. 
Apostate, still thou err'st, nor end wilt find 
Of erring, from the path of truth remote : 
Unjustly thou deprav'st it wath the name 
Of servitude to serve whom God ordains, 
Or Nature ; God and Nature bid the same, 
When he who rules is worthiest, and excels 
Them whom he governs. This is servitude, 







" This greeting on lliy impious crest receive." — Book VI., line l88. 




PARADISE LOST. 



<!u 



To serve th' unwise, or him who hath rebell'd 
Against his worthier, as thine now serve thee, 
Thyself not free, but to thyself enthrall'd ; 
Yet lewdly dar'st our niinist'ring upbraid. 
Reign thou in hell thy kingdom, let me ser\-e 
In heav'n God ever bless'd, and His divine 
Behests obey, worthiest to be obey'd ; 
Yet chains in hell, not realms expect : meanwhile 
From me return 'd, as erst thou saidst, from flight. 
This greeting on thy impious crest receive. 
So saying, a noble stroke he lifted high. 
Which hung not, but so swift with tempest fell 
On the proud crest of Satan, that no sight, 
Nor motion of swift thought, less could his shield 
Such ruin intercept : ten paces huge 
He back recoil'd ; the tenth on bended knee 
His massy spear upstay'd ; as if on earth 
Winds under ground or waters, forcing waj' 
Side-long had push'd a mountain from his seat, 
Half sunk with all his pines. Amazement seized 
The rebel thrones, but greater rage to see 
Thus foil'd their mightiest ; ours joy fill'd, and shout, 
Presage of victory, and fierce desire 
Of battle : whereat Michael bid sound 
The arch-angel trumpet ; through the vast of heav'u 
It sounded, and the faithful armies rung 
Hosanna to the Highest : nor stood at gaze 
The adverse legions, nor less hideous join'd 
The horrid shock. Now storming fury rose, 
And clamour, such as heard in heav'n till now 
Was never; arms on armour clashing bray'd 
Horrible discord, and the madding wheels 
Of brazen chariots raged ; dire was the noise 
Of conflict ; over head the dismal hiss 
Of fiery darts in flaming volleys flew. 
And flying vaulted either host with fire. 
So under fiery cope together rush'd 
Both battles main, with ruinous assault 
And inextinguishable rage ; all heav'n 
Resounded, and had earth been then, all earth 
Had to her centre shook. What wonder? when 
Millions of fierce encount'ring angels fought 
On either side, the least of whom could wield 
These elements, and arm him with the force 
Of all their regions : how much more of power 
Army against army numberless to raise 
Dreadful combustion warring, and disturb, 
Though not destroy, their happy native seat ; 
Had not the eternal King omnipotent 
FroTn his strong hold of heav'n high overruled 






PARADISE LOST. 






And limited tlieir might ; though number"d such, 
As each divided legion might have seem'd 
A numerous host ; in strength each armed hand 
A legion ; led in fight, yet leader seem'd 
Each warrior single as in chief, expert 
When to advance, or stand, or turn the sway 
Of battle, open when, and when to close 
The ridges of grim war ; no thought of flight, 
None of retreat, no unbecoming deed 
That argued fear ; each on himself relied, 
As only in his arm the moment lay 
Of victory : deeds of eternal fame 
Were done, but infinite ; for wide was spread 
That war and various ; sometimes on firm ground 
A standing fight : then soaring on main wing 
Tormented all the air ; all air seem'd then 
Conflicting fire. Long time in even scale 
The battle hung ; till Satan, who that da}' 
Prodigious power had shown, and met in arms 
No equal, ranging through the dire attack 
Of fighting Seraphim confused, at length 
Saw where the sword of Michael smote, and fell'd 
Squadrons at once ; with huge two-handed sway 
Brandish'd aloft the horrid edge came down 
Wide wasting : such destruction to withstand 
He hasted, and opposed the rocky orb 
Of tenfold adamant, his ample shield, 
A vast circumference. At his approach 
The great arch-angel from his warlike toil 
Surceased ; and glad, as hoping here to end 
Intestine war in heav'n, tli' arch-foe subdued 
Or captive dragg'd in chains, with hostile frown 
And visage all inflamed, first thus began. 
Author of evil, unknown till thy revolt. 
Unnamed in heav'n ; now plenteous, as thou seest 
These acts of hateful strife, hateful to all. 
Though heaviest by just measure on thyself 
And thy adherents : how hast thou disturb'd 
Heav'n's blessed peace, and into nature brought 
Misery, uncreated till the crime 
Of thy rebellion ! how hast thou instill'd 
Thy malice into thousands, once upright 
And faithful, now proved false ! But think not here 
To trouble holy rest ; heav'n casts thee out 
From all her confines : heav'n the seat of bliss 
Brooks not the works of violence and war. 
Hence then, and evil go with thee along. 
Thy offspring, to the place of evil, hell ; 
Thou and thy wicked crew : there mingle broils, 
Ere this avenging sword l^egin thv doom, 




V 




PARADISE LOST. 



103 



Or some more sudden vengeance wing'd from God 
Precipitate thee ^vith augmented pain. 

So spake the prince of angels ; to whom thus 
The adversary. Nor think thou \sith wind 
Of aery threats to awe whom yet with deeds 
Thou canst not. Hast thou turn'd the least of these 
To flight, or if to fall, but that they rise 
Unvanquish'd? easier to transact with me 
That thou shouldst hope, imperious, and with threats 
To chase me hence ? err not that so shall end 
The strife which thou call'st evil, but we style 
The strife of glory : which we mean to win, 
Or turn this heav'n itself into the hell 
Thou fablest ; here however to dwell free. 
If not to reign : meanwhile th}'^ utmost force, 
And join Him named Almighty to thj' aid, 
I fly not, but have sought thee far and nigh. 

They ended parle, and both address'd for fight 
Unspeakable ; for who, though with the tongue 
Of angels, can relate, or to what things 
Liken on earth conspicuous, that may lift 
Human imagination to such higlith 
Of godlike power? for likest gods the}- seem'd 
Stood they or moved, in stature, motion, arms. 
Fit to decide the empire of great heav'n. 
Now waved their fiery swords, and in the air 
Made horrid circles ; two broad suns their shields 
Blazed opposite, while expectation stood 
In horror ; from each hand with speed retired, 
Where erst was thickest fight, th' angelic throng. 
And left large field, unsafe within the wind 
Of such commotion, such as, to set forth 
Great things by small, if, nature's concord broke, 
Among the constellations war was sprung, 
Two planets, rushing from aspect malign 
Of fiercest opposition, in mid sky 
Should combat, and their jarring spheres confound. 
Together both, with next to Almighty arm 
Uplifted eminent, one stroke they aim'd 
That might determine, and not need repeat. 
As not of power, at once ; nor odds appear' d 
In might or swift prevention ; but the sword 
Of Michael from the armoury of God 
Was giv'n him temper'd so, that neither keen 
Nor solid might resist that edge : it met 
The sword of Satan \\4th steep force to smite 
Descending, and in half cut sheer ; nor stay'd, 
But with swift wheel reverse, deep ent'ring, shared 
All his right side ; then Satan first knew pain. 
And writhed him to and fro convolved ; so sore 




^^ 






I04 



PARADISE LOST. 



\1 





The griding sword with discontinuous wound 

Pass'd through him, but th' ethereal substance closed, 

Not long divisible, and from the gash 

A stream of nectarous humour issuing flow'd 

Sanguine, such as celestial spirits may bleed. 

And all his armour stain' d ere while so bright. 

Forthwith on all sides to his aid was run 

By angels many and strong, who interposed 

Defence, while other bore him on their shields 

Back to his chariot ; where it stood retired 

From off the files of war : there they him laid 

Gnashing for anguish, and despite, and shame. 

To find himself not matchless, and his pride 

Humbled by such rebuke, so far beneath 

His confidence to equal God in power. 

Yet soon he heal'd ; for spirits that live throughout 

Vital in every part, not as frail man 

In entrails, heart or head, liver or reins. 

Cannot but by annihilating die ; 

Nor in their liquid texture mortal wound 

Receive, no more than can the fluid air : 

All heart they live, all head, all eye, all ear. 

All intellect, all sense, and as they please 

They limb themselves, and colour, shape, or size 

Assume, as likes them best, condense or rare. 

Meanwhile in other parts like deeds deser\'ed 
Memorial, where the might of Gabriel fought, 
And with fierce ensigns pierced the deep array 
Of Moloch furious king, who him defied. 
And at his chariot wheels to drag him bound 
Threaten'd, nor from the Holy One of heav'n 
Refrain'd his tongue blasphemous ; but anon, 
Down cloven to the waist, with shatter' d arms 
And uncouth pain fled bellowing. On each wing 
Uriel and Raphael , his vaunting foe 
Though huge, and in a rock of diamond arm'd, 
Vanquish'd, Adrameleck and Asmadai, 
Two potent thrones, that to be less than Gods 
Disdain'd, but meaner thoughts learn'd in their flight, 
Mangled with ghastly wounds thro' plate and mail. 
Nor stood unmindful Abdiel to annoy 
The atheist crew, but with redoubled blow 
Ariel, and Arioc, and the violence 
Of Ramiel scorch'd and blasted, overthrew. 
I might relate of thousands, and their names 
Eternize here on earth ; but those elect 
Angels, contented with their fame in heav'n. 
Seek not the praise of men : the other sort, 
In might though wondrous and in acts of war. 
Nor of renown less eager, yet by doom 






mA 



M 




V 



^'■^. 




p '^ 




':^-^ 



PARADISE LOST. 105 

Cancell'd from heav'n and sacred memory, 
Nameless in dark oblivion let them dwell. 
For strength from truth divided and from just, 
lUaudable, naught merits but dispraise 
And ignominy ; yet to glory aspires 
Vainglorious, and through infamy seeks fame : 
Therefore eternal silence be their doom. 

And now, their mightiest quell'd, the battle swerv-ed. 
With many an inroad gored ; deformed rout 
Enter'd and foul disorder: all the ground 
With shiver'd armour slrown, and on a heap 
Chariot and charioteer lay overtum'd. 
And fiery foaming steeds; what stood, recoil'd 
O'erwearied, through the faint Satanic host 
Defensive scarce, or with pale fear surprised. 
Then first with fear surprised and sense of pain 
Fled ignominious, to such evil brought 
By sin of disobedience, till that hour 
Not liable to fear, or flight, or pain. 
Far otherwise th' inviolable saints 
In cubic phalanx firm advanced entire, 
Invulnerable, impenetrably arm'd : 
Such high advantages their innocence 
Gave them above their foes, not to have sinn'd, 
Not to have disobey'd ; in fight they stood 
Unwearied, unobnoxious to be pain'd 
By wound, tho' from their place by violence moved. 

Now night her course began, and, over heav'n 
Inducing darkness, grateful truce imposed, 
And silence on the odious din of war : 
Under her cloudy covert both retired, 
Victor and vanquish'd. On the foughten field 
Michael and his angels prevalent 
Encamping placed in guard their watches round. 
Cherubic waving fires : on th' other part 
Satan with his rebellious disappear'd. 
Far in the dark dislodged, and void of rest 
His potentates to council call'd by night ; 
And in the midst thus undismay'd began. 

O now in danger tried, now known in arms 
Not to be overpower'd, companions dear. 
Found worthy not of liberty alone. 
Too mean pretence, but what we more affiect, 
Honour, dominion, glory, and renown; 
Who have sustain'd one day in doubtful fight, 
And if one day why not eternal days ? 
What heaven's Lord had powerfullest to send 
Against us from about His throne, and judged 
Sufficient to subdue us to His will, 
But proves not so : then fallible, it seems, 




M 






PARADISE LOST. 



Of future we may deem Him, though till now 

Omniscient thought. True is, less firmly arm'd, 

Some disadvantage we endured and pain. 

Till now not known, but known, as soon contemn 'd ; 

Since now we find this our empyreal form 

Incapable of mortal injury, 

Imperishable, and though pierced with wound 

Soon closing, and by native vigour heal'd. 

Of evil then so small as easy think 

The remedy ; perhaps more valid arms, 

Weapons more violent, when next we meet, . 

May serve to better us, and worse our foes : 

Or equal what between us made the odds, 

In nature none : if other hidden cause 

Left them superior, while we can preserv'e 

Unhurt our minds and understanding sound. 

Due search and consultation will disclose. 

He sat ; and in th' assembly next upstood 
Nisroch, of principalities the prime ; 
As one he stood escaped from cruel fight, 
Sore toil'd, his riven arms to havock hewn ; 
And cloudy in aspect thus answering spake. 

Deliverer from new lords, leader to free 
Enjoyment of our right as Gods ; yet hard 
For Gods, and too unequal work we find 
Against unequal arms to fight in pain, 
Against unpain'd, impassive ; from which evil 
Ruin must needs ensue, for what avails 
Valour or strength, though matchless, quell'd with pain, 
Which all subdues, and makes re:niss the hand 
Of mightiest ? sense of pleasure we may well 
Spare out of life perhaps, and not repine, 
But live content, which is the calmest life : 
But pain is perfect misery, the worst 
Of evils, and excessive overturns 
All patience He who therefore can invent 
With what more forcible we may offend 
Our yet unwounded enemies, or arm 
Ourselves with like defence, to me deserves 
No less than for deliverance what we owe. 

Whereto with look composed Satan replied. 
Not uninvented that, which thou aright 
Believ'st so main to our success, I bring : 
Which of us who beholds the bright surface 
Of this ethereous mould whereon we stand. 
This continent of spacious heav'n, adorn'd 
With plant, fruit, flow'r ambrosial, gems, and gold, 
Whose eye so superficially sur-veys 
These things, as not to mind from whence they grow 
Deep under ground, materials dark and crude. 




^M:^^^W# 




^^g^^^ 



PARADISE LOST. 



107 



Of spirituous and fier}' spume, till touch'd 
With heaven's raj-, and temper'd they shoot forth 
So beauteous, op'ning to the ambient light ? 
These in their dark nativity the deep 
Shall yield us pregnant with infernal flame, 
Which into hollow engines long and round 
Thick-ramni'd, at th' other bore with touch of fire 
Dilated and infuriate, shall send forth 
From far with thund'riug noise among our foes 
Such implements of mischief, as shall dash 
To pieces, and o'er whelm whatever stands 
Adverse, that thej^ shall fear we have disarm'd 
The Thunderer of his only dreaded bolt. 
Nor long shall be our labour ; 3'et ere dawn, 
Effect shall end our wish. Meanwhile revive ; 
Abandon fear; to strength and counsel join'd 
Think nothing hard, much less to be despair'd. 

He ended, and his words their drooping cheer 
Enlighten 'd, and their languish' d hope re\aved. 
Th' invention all admired, and each, how he 
To be th' inventor miss'd, so easy it seem'd 
Once found, which yet unfound most would have thought 
Impossible : yet haply of thy race 
In future days, if malice should abound, 
Some one intent on mischief, or inspired 
With dev'lish machination, might devise 
Like instrument, to plague the sons of men 
For sin, on war and mutual slaughter bent. 
Forthwith from council to the work they flew. 
None arguing stood ; innumerable hands 
Were ready ; in a moment up they turn'd 
Wide the celestial soil, and saw beneath 
Th' originals of nature in their crude 
Conception : sulphurous and nitrous foam 
They found, they mingled, and with subtile art 
Concocted and adjusted they reduced 
To blackest grain, and into store conve^-'d. 
Part hidden veins digg'd up, nor hath this earth 
Entrails unlike, of mineral ancl stone. 
Whereof to found their engines and their balls 
Of missive ruin ; part incentive reed 
Pro\'ide, pernicious with one touch to fire. 
So all ere day-spring, under conscious night 
Secret, they finish'd, and in order set, 
With silent circumspection unespied. 

Now when fair morn orient in heav'n appear'd, 
Up rose the \'ictor angels, and to arms 
The matin trumpet sung : in arms they stood 
Of golden panoply, refulgent host. 
Soon banded ; others from the dawning hills 









' I io8 PARADISE LOST. 

Look'd round, and scouts each coast light-armed scour, 
III Each quarter, to descry the distant foe, 
' Where lodged, or whither fled, or if for fight, 
\ 1,1 In motion or in halt : him soon they met 
i , ' Under spread ensigns moving nigh, in slow 

\ ^ » But firm battalion : back with speediest sail %, 

^ '^ V Zophiel, of cherubim the swiftest wing, ^^ 

-> Came flying, and in mid air aloud thus cried. 
Il Arm, warriors, arm for fight, the foe at hand, 

y Whom fled we thought, will save us long pursuit 

This day, fear not his flight ; so thick a cloud 
' He comes, and settled in his face I see 

Sad resolution and secure : let each 
His admantine coat gird well, and each 
Fit well his helm, gripe fast his orbed shield. 
Borne ev'n or high ; for this way will pour down, 
\ 1 If I conjecture aught, no drizzling show'r, 

;i,|j;;|i I But rattling storm of arrows barb'd vnth fire. 

';P-. 1^. So warn'd he them, aware themselves, and soon ; 

jI' In order, quit of all impediment ; 

: '|- Instant without disturb they took alarm, 

l!j) (i a And onward move embattell'd ; when behold 

I ^>'; Not distant far with heavy pace the foe ,; 

if Approaching gross and huge ; in hollow cube ,i|i j 

,' >' Training his devilish enginry, impaled ]% 'fjj 

"V On every side with shadowing squadrons deep, :| f; 

f/ To hide the fraud. At interview both stood 'I 1 

Awhile ; but suddenly at head appear' d li 

Satan ; and thus was heard commanding loud. 

Vanguard, to right and left the front unfold ; 

That all may see, who hate us, how we seek 

Peace and composure, and with open breast 

Stand ready to receive them, if they like 

Our overture, and turn not back perverse ; 

But that I doubt ; however witness heaven, 

Heav'n witness thou anon, while we discharge 

Freely our part : ye who appointed stand 

Do as you have in charge, and briefly touch 

What we propound, and loud that all may hear. 

So scoffing in ambiguous words, he scarce 
Had ended ; when to right and left the front 
Divided, and to either flank retired : 
Which to our eyes discover' d, new and strange, 
A triple mounted row of pillars laid 
On wheels, for like to pillars most they seem'd. 
Or hollow'd bodies made of oak or fir 
With branches lopp'd, in wood or mountain fell'd. 
Brass, iron, stony mould, had not their mouths 
With hideous orifice gaped on us wide. 
Portending hollow trvice ; at each behind 






PARADISE LOST. 

A seraph stood, and in his hand a reed 

Stood waving tipp'd with fire ; while we suspense 

Collected stood within our thoughts amused ; 

Not long, for sudden all at once their reeds 

Put forth, and to a narrow vent applied 

With nicest touch. Immediate in a flame. 

But soon obscured with smoke, all heav'n appear'd, 

From those deep-throated engines belch'd, whose roar 

Embowell'd with outrageous noise the air, 

And all her entrails tore, disgorging foul 

Their devilish glut, chain'd thunderbolts and hail 

Of iron globes, which on the victor host 

Levell'd with such impetuous fury smote, 

That whom they hit, none on their feet might stand. 

Though standing else as rocks ; but down they fell 

By thousands, angel on archangel roll'd, 

The sooner for their arms ; unarm'd they might 

Have easily as spirits evaded swift 

By quick contraction or remove : but now 

Foul dissipation follow'd and forced rout : 

Nor served it to relax their serried files. 

What should they do ? if on they rush'd, repulse 

Repeated, and indecent overthrow 

Doubled, would render them yet more despised, 

And to their foes a laughter : for in \4ew 

Stood rank'd of seraphim another row, 

In posture to displode their second tire 

Of thunder : back defeated to return 

They worse abhorr'd. Satan beheld their plight, 

And to his mates thus in derision call'd. 

O friends, why come not on these victors proud? 
Ere while they fierce were coming, and when we, 
To entertain them fair with open front 
And breast (what could we more?) propounded terms 
Of composition, straight they changed their minds, 
Flew off, and into strange vagaries fell. 
As they would dance : yet for a dance they seem'd 
Somewhat extravagant and wild, perhaps 
For joy of offer'd peace : but I suppose. 
If our proposals once again were heard, 
We should compel them to a quick result. 

To whom thus Belial in like gamesome mood. 
Leader, the terms we sent were terms of weight, 
Of hard contents, and full of force urged home ; 
Such as we might perceive amused them all, 
And stumbled many ; who receives them right. 
Had need from head to foot well understand ; 
Not understood, this gift they have besides. 
They shew us when our foes walk not upright. 

So they among themselves in pleasant vein 



109 






PARADISE LOST. 






\ \. 



Stood S5coffing, heighten'd in their thoughts beyond 

All doubt of victory ; eternal might 

To match wath their inventions they presumed 

So easy, and of His thunder made a scorn, 

And ail His host derided, while they stood 

Awhile in trouble ; but they stood not long ; 

Rage prompted them at length, and found them arms 

Against such hellish mischief fit to oppose. 

Forthwith behold the excellence, the power 

Which God hath in his mighty angels placed ! 

Their arms away they threw, and to the hills, 

For earth hath this variety from heav'n 

Of pleasure situate in hill and dale. 

Light as the lightning glimpse they ran, they flew, 

From their foundations loos'ning to and fro 

They pluck' d the seated hills with all their load, 

Rocks, waters, woods, and by the shaggy tops 

Up lifting bore them in their hands. Amaze, 

Be sure, and terror seized the rebel host. 

When coming towards them so dread they saw 

The bottom of the mountains upward turn'd ; 

Till on those cursed engines triple row 

They saw them whelm'd, and all their confidence 

Under the weight of mountains buried deep. 

Themselves invaded next, and on their heads 

Main promontories flung, which in the air 

Came shadowing, and opprest whole legions arm'd; 

Their armour help'd their harm, crush'd in and bruised 

Into their substance pent, which wrought them pain 

Implacable, and many a dolorous groan, 

Long struggling underneath, ere they could wind 

Out of such prison, though spirits of purest light. 

Purest at first, now gross by sinning grown. 

The rest in imitation to like arms 

Betook them, and the neighbouring hills uptore ; 

So hills amid the air encounter'd hills, 

Hurl'd to and fro with jaculation dire, 

That under ground they fought in dismal shade ; 

Infernal noise ; war seem'd a civil game 

To this uproar; horrid confusion heap'd 

Upon confusion rose : and now all heav n 

Had gone to wrack, with ruin overspread. 

Had not th' Almighty Father, where he sits 

Shrined in his sanctuary of heav'n secure, 

Consulting on the sum of things, foreseen 

This tumult, and permitted all, advised : 

That his great purpose he might so fulfil. 

To honour his anointed Son avenged 

Upon his enemies, and to declare 

All power on him transferr'd : whence to his Son 






^^ 



"^ 




PARADISE LOST. 

Th' assessor of his throne he thus began. 

Effulgence of my glory, Son beloved, 
Son in whose face invisible is beheld 
Visibly, what by Deity I am, 
And in whose hand what by decree I do, 
Second Omnipotence, two days are past. 
Two daj-s, as we compute the days of heav'n, 
Since Michael and his powers went forth to tame 
These disobedient ; sore hath been their fight, 
As likeliest was, when two such foes met arm'd ; 
For to themselves I left them, and thou know'st. 
Equal in their creation they were form'd, 
Save what sin hath impair'd, which yet hath wrought 
Insensibly, for I suspend their doom ; 
Whence in perpetual fight they needs must last 
Endless, and no solution will be found. 
War wearied hath perform 'd what war can do. 
And to disorder'd rage let loose the reins, 
With mountains as with weapons arm'd, which makes 
Wild work in heav'n and dangerous to the main. 
Two days are therefore past, the third is thine ; 
For thee I have ordain'd it, and thus far 
Have suffer'd, that the glory may be thine 
Of ending this great war, since none but thou 
Can end it. Into thee such virtue and grace 
Immense I have transfused, that all may know 
In heav'n and hell thy power above cornpare, 
And this perverse commotion govern 'd thus, 
To manifest thee worthiest to be heir 
Of all things, to be heir and to be king 
By sacred unction, thy deserved right. 
Go then, thou Mightiest, in thy Father's might, 
Ascend my chariot, guide the rapid wheels 
That shake heav'n's basis, bring forth all my war, 
My bow and thunder, my almighty arms 
Gird Qu, and sword upon thy puissant thigh ; 
Pursue these sons of darkness, drive them out 
From all heav'n's bounds into the utter deep : 
There let them learn, as likes them, to despise 
God and Messiah his anointed king. 

He said, and on his Son with rays direct 
Shone full. He all his Father full exprest 
Ineffably into His face received. 
And thus the filial Godhead answering spake. 

O Father, O Supreme of heav'nlv thrones, 
First, Highest, Holiest, Best, thou always seek'st 
To glorify thy Son, I always thee, 
As is most just ; this I my glory account. 
My exaltation, and my whole delight, 
That thou in me well pleased declar'st thv will 



^^^-'- 








112 PARADISE LOST. 

Fulfill'd, which to fulfill is all my bliss. 

Sceptre, and power, thy giving, I assume, 

And gladlier shall resign, when in the end 

Thou shalt be all in all, and I in thee 

For ever, and in me all whom thou lov'st : 

But whom thou hat'st, I hate, and can put on 

Thy terrors, as I put thy mildness on, 

Image of thee in all things ; and shall soon, 

Arm'd with thy might, rid heav'n of these rebell'd. 

To their prepared ill mansion driven down 

To chains of darkness and th' undying worm ; 

That from thy just obedience could revolt. 

Whom to obey is happiness entire. 

Then shall thy saints unmix'd, and from th' impure 

Far separate, circling thy holy mount 

Unfained hallelujahs to thee sing. 

Hymns of high praise, and I among them chief. 

So said, he, o'er his sceptre bowing, rose 
From the right hand of glory where he sat, 
And the third sacred morn began to shine. 
Dawning through heav'n : forth rush'd with whirlwind 

sound 
The chariot of paternal Deity, 

Flashing thick flames, wheel within wheel undrawn, 
Itself instinct with spirit, but convoy'd 
By four cherubic shapes ; four faces each 
Had wondrous, as with stars their bodies all 
And wings were set with eyes, with eyes the wheels 
Of beryl, and careering fires between ; 
Over their heads a crystal firmament, 
Whereon a sapphire throne, inlaid with pure 
Amber, and colours of the show'ry arch. 
He, in celestial panoply all arm'd 
Of radiant Urim work divinely wrought, 
Ascended ; at his right hand Victory 
Sate eagle-winged, beside him hung his bow 
And quiver with three bolted thunder stored, 
And from about him fierce effusion roll'd 
Of smoke, and bickering flame, and sparkles dire. 
Attended with ten thousand thousand saints 
He onward came, far off his coming shone. 
And twenty thousand I their number heard. 
Chariots of God, half on each hand were seen. 
He on the wings of Cherub rode sublime. 
On the crystalline sky, in sapphire throned. 
Illustrious far and wide, but by his own 
First seen, them unexpected joy surprised, 
When the great ensign of Messiah blazed. 
Aloft by angels borne, his sign in heav'n : 
Under whose conduct Michael soon reduced 



■ ^ 



A 



I'' 




--^ 




PARADISE LOST. 



\Ui/;i 



^" 



ja»- 



His arnij-, circumfused on either wing, 
. I , ' Under their Head embodied all in one 

A \\/ \ Before him power divine his way prepared ; 

^ ^ At his command the uprooted hills retired 

■' Each to his place, they heard his voice and went 

Obsequious : Heav'u his wonted face renew'd, 
•'-: , > And with fresh flow'rels hill and valley smiled. 

' : ^ This saw his hapless foes, but stood obdured. 

And to rebellious fight rallied their powers 
Insensate, hope concei\'ing from despair : 
In heav'nly spirits could such per\'erseness dwell? 
But to con^dnce the proud what signs avail, 
Or wonders move the obdurate to relent ? 
They harden' d more by what might most reclaim 
' • Grie\-ing to see His glory, at the sight 

Took envy, and, aspiring to His highth, 
Stood reimbattled fierce, by force or frand 
Weening to prosper, and at length prevail 
Against God and Messiah, or to fall 
:;L 3 In universal ruin last ; and now 

j ! j?' To final battle drew, disdaining flight, 

,1^ '' Ijj 3 Or faint retreat ; when the great Son of God 

^ ' ' To all his host on either hand thus spake. 

Stand still in bright array, ye saints, here stand, 
Ye angels ami'd, this day from battle rest ; 
Faithful hath been your warfare, and of God 
Accepted, fearless in His righteous cause. 
And as y& have received, so have ye done 
In\dncibh' : but of this cursed crew 
The punishment to other hand belongs ; 
Vengeance is His, or whose He sole appoints .* 
'^J Number to this day's work is not ordain'd. 

Nor multitude, stand onh^ and behold 
God's indignation on these godless pour'd 
By Me ; not you, but me they have despised. 
Yet envied : against me is all their rage, 
Because the Father, t' whom in heav'n supreme 
Kingdom, and power, and glory appertains. 
Hath honour'd me according to his will. 
Therefore to me their doom he hath assign'd ; 
That they may have their wish, to tr}- with me 
In battle which the stronger proves, they all, 
Or I alone against them ; since by strength 
They measure all, of other excellence 
; Not emulous, nor care who them excels ; 
Nor other strife with them do I vouchsafe. 

So spake the Son, and into terror changed 
His count'nance, too severe to be beheld 
And full of wrath bent on his enemies. 
At once the Four spread out their starry wings 



I 






IT4 



PARADISE LOST. 




With dreadful shade contiguous, and the orbs 

Of his fierce chariot roll'd, as with the sound 

Of torrent floods, or of a numerous host. 

He on His impious foes right onward drove, 

Gloomy as night ; under His burning wheels 

The steadfast empyrean shook throughout. 

All but the throne itself of God. Full soon 

Among them He arrived, in His right hand 

Grasping ten thousand thunders, which He sent 

Before Him, such as in their souls infix'd 

Plagues : they astonish'd all resistance lost, 

All courage ; down their idle weapons dropp'd ; 

O'er shields, and helms, and helmtd heads He rode 

Of thrones and mighty seraphim prostrate. 

That wish'd the mountains now might be again 

Thrown on them as a shelter from his ire. 

Nor less on either side tempestuous fell 

His arrows, from the fourfold visaged Four, 

Distinct with eyes, and from the living wheels 

Distinct alike with multitude of eyes ; 

One spirit in them ruled, and every eye 

Glared light'ning, and shot forth pernicious fire 

Among th' accurst, that wither'd all their strength, 

And of their wonted vigour left them drain 'd. 

Exhausted, spiritless, afflicted, fall'n. 

Yet half his strength He put not forth, but check'd 

His thunder in mid volley, for He meant 

Not to destroy, but root them out of heav'n. 

The overthrown He raised, and as a herd 

Of goats or timorous flock together throng' d 

Drove them before Him thunder-struck, pursued 

With terrors and with furies to the bounds 

And crystal wall of heav'n, which op'ning wide 

Roll'd inward, and a spacious gap disclosed 

Into the wasteful deep ; the monstrous sight 

Struck them with horror backward ; but far worse 

Urged them behind ; headlong themselves they threw 

Down from the verge of heav'n, eternal wrath 

Bmrn'd after them to the bottomless pit. 

Hell heard th' unsufierable noise, hell saw 

Heav'n ruining from heav'n, and would have fled 

Afirighted ; but strict fate had cast too deep 

Her dark foundations, and too fast had bound. 

Nine days they fell ; confounded Chaos roar'd. 

And felt tenfold confusion in their fall 

Through his wild anarchy ; so huge a rout 

Incumber'd him with ruin : hell at last 

Yawning received them whole, and on them closed ; 

Hell their fit habitation, fraught with fire 

Unquenchable, the house of woe and pain. 



% 




te: 




PARADISE LOST. 




Disburden'd lieav'n rejoiced, and soou repair d 
Her mural breach, returning whence it roll'd. 

Sole victor from th' expulsion of his foes 
Messiah His triumphal chariot turn'd : 
To meet Him all His saints, who silent stood 
Eye-witnesses of His almighty acts. 
With jubilee advanced ; and as they went. 
Shaded with branching palm, each order bright 
Sung triumph, and Him sung victorious King, 
Son, Heir, and Lord, to Him dominion giv'n, 
Worthiest to reign : He celebrated rode 
Triumphant through mid heav'n, into the courts 
And temple of his mighty Father throned 
On high ; who into glory Him received. 
Where now He sits at the right hand of bliss. 

Thus measuring things in heav'n by things on earth, 
At thy request, and that thou may'st beware 
By what is past, to thee I have reveal'd 
What might have else to human race been hid : 
The discord which befell, and war in heav'n 
Among th' angelic powers, and the deep fall 
Of those too high aspiring, who rebell'd 
With Satan, he who envies now thy state. 
Who now is plotting how he may seduce 
Thee also from obedience, that with him 
Bereaved of happiness thou may'st partake 
His punishment, eternal misery. 
Which would be all his solace and revenge, 
As a despite done against the Most High, 
Thee once to gain companion of his woe. 
But listen not to his temptations, warn 
Thy weaker ; let it profit thee to have heard 
By terrible example the reward 
Of disobedience ; firm they might have stood, 
Yet fell : remember, and fear to trangress. 





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■^^i^^^/ill/^^^^i 





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1V«I 



ii6 



PARADISE LOST. 



BOOK VII. 

The Argument. 

Raphael, at the request of Adam, relates how, and wherefore, 
this world was first created ; that God, after the expelling of Satan 
and his angels out of heaven, declared his pleasure to create another 
world, and other creatures to dwell therein ; sends his Son with 
glory and attendance of angels to perform the work of creation in 
six days : the angels celebrate with hymns the performance thereof, 
and his reascension into heaven. 





Descend from heav'n, Urania, by that name 
If rightly thou art call'd, whose voice divine 
Following, above th' Olympian hill I soar, 
Above the flight of Pegasean wing. 
The meaning, not the name, I call : for thou 
Nor of the Muses nine, nor on the top 
Of old Olympus dwell'st, but heav'nly born, 
Before the hills appear'd, or fountain flow'd, 
Thou with eternal Wisdom didst converse, 
Wisdom thy sister, and with her didst play 
In presence of th' almighty Father, pleased 
With thy celestial song. Up led by thee 
Into the heav'n of heav'ns I have presumed, 
An earthly guest, and drawn empyreal air 
Thy temp'ring ; with like safety guided down 
Return me to my native element : 
Least from thi^ flying steed unrein'd, as once 
Bellerophon, though from a lower clime. 
Dismounted, on the Aleian field I fall 
Erroneous, there to wander and forlorn. 
Half yet remains unsung, but narrower bound. 
Within the visible diurnal sphere ; 
Standing on earth, not rapt above the pole, 
More safe I sing with mortal voice, unchanged 
To hoarse or mute, though fall'n on evil diys, 
On evil daj'S though fall'n and evil tongaies ; 
In darkness, and with dangers compast round. 
And solitude; yet not alone, while thou 
Visit'st my slumbers nightly, or when morn 
Purples the east. Still govern thou my song, 
Urania, and fit audience find, though few. 
But drive far off the barbarous dissonance 
Of Bacchus and his revellers, the race 






PARADISE LOST. 



117 



'%: 



I I 



;l5 



Of that wild rout that tore the Thracian bard 

In Rhodope, where woods and rocks had ears 

To rapture, till the savage clamour drown'd 

Both harp and voice ; nor could the Muse defend 

Her son. So fail not thou, who thee implores ; 

For thou art heav'nly, she an empty dream. 

Say, Goddess, what ensued when Raphael, 

The affable arch-angel, had forewarn'd 

Adam by dire example to beware 

Apostasy, by what befell in heav'n 

To those apostates, lest the like befall 

In Paradise to Adam or his race, 

Charged not to touch the interdicted tree. 

If they transgress, and slight that sole command, 

So easily obej^'d, amid the choice 

Of all tastes else to please their appetite, 

Though wand'ring. He with his consorted Eve 

The story heard attentive, and was fiU'd 

With admiration and deep muse, to hear 

Of things so high and strange, things to their thoughts 

So unimaginable as hate in heav'n,^ 

And war so near the peace of God in bliss 

With such confusion : but the evil soon 

Driven back redounded as a flood on those 

PYom whom it sprung, impossible to mix 

With blessedness. Whence Adam soon repeal'd 

The doubts that in his heart arose : and now 

Led on, yet sinless, with desire to know _ 

What nearer might concern him, how this world 

Of heav'n and earth conspicuous first began, 

When, and whereof, created, for what cause, 

What within Eden, or without, was done 

Before his memory, as one whose drouth 

Yet scarce allay'd still eyes the current stream. 

Whose liquid murmur heard new thirst excites, 

Proceeded thus to ask his heav'nly guest. 

Great things, and full of wonder in our ears. 
Far differing from this world, thou hast reveal' d. 
Divine interpreter, by favour sent 
Down from the empyrean to forewarn 
Us timely of what might else have been our loss. 
Unknown, which human knowledge could not reach : 
For which to the infinitely Good we owe 
Immortal thanks, and His admonishment 
Receive with solemn purpose to observe 
Immutably His sovereign will, the end 
Of what we are. But since thou hast vouchsafed 
Gently for our instruction to impart 
Things above earthly thought, which yet concern'd 
Our knowing, as to highest wisdom seeni'd, 





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ii8 



PARADISE LOST. 









Deign to descend now lower, and relate 

What may no less perhaps avail us known ; 

How first began this heav'n which we behold 

Distant so high, with moving fires adorn' d 

Innumerable, and this which yields or fills 

All space, the ambient air wide interfused 

Embracing round this florid earth ; what cause 

Moved the Creator in his holy rest 

Through all eternity so late to build 

In Chaos; and the work begun, how soon 

Absolved ; if unforbid thou may'st unfold 

What we, not to explore, the secrets, ask 

Of His eternal empire, but the more 

To magnify His works, the more we know. 

And the great light of day yet wants to run 

Much of his race though steep, suspense in heav'n 

Held by thy voice, thy potent voice, he hears, 

And longer will delay to hear thee tell 

His generation, and the rising birth 

Of nature from the unapparent deep : 

Or if the star of ev'ning and the moon 

Haste to thy audience, night \vith her will bring 

Silence, and sleep list'ning to thee will watch ; 

Or we can bid his absence, till thy song 

End, and dismiss thee ere the morning shine. 

Thus Adam his illustrious guest besought ; 
And thus the Godlike Angel answer' d mild. 

This also thy request with caution ask'd 
Obtain : though to recount almighty works 
What words or tongue of seraph can suffice, 
Or heart of man suffice to comprehend ? 
Yet what thou canst attain, which best may serve 
To glorify the Maker, and infer 
Thee also happier, shall not be withheld 
Thy hearing, such commission from above 
I have received, to answer thy desire 
Of knowledge within bounds ; beyond abstain 
To ask, nor let thine own inventions hope 
Things not reveal'd, which th' invisible King, 
Only omniscient, hath supprest in night, 
To none communicable in earth or heav'n : 
Enough is left besides to search and know. 
But knowledge is as food, and needs no less 
Her temperance over appetite, to know 
In measure what the mind may well contain. 
Oppresses else with surfeit, and soon turns 
Wisdom to folly, as nourishment to wind. 

Know then, that after Lucifer from heav'n. 
So call him, brighter once amid the host 
Of angels, than that star the stars among. 








PARADISE LOST. 



119 



Fell with his flaming legions through the deep 
Into his place, and the great Son return'd 
Victorious with his saints, th' omnipotent 
Eternal Father from his throne beheld 
Their multitude, and to his Son thus spake. 

At least our envious foe hath fail'd, who thought 
All like himself rebellious, by whose aid 
This inaccessible high strength, the seat 
Of deity supreme, us dispossest, 
He trusted to have seized, and into fraud 
Drew many, whom their place knows here no more : 
Yet far the greater part have kept, I see. 
Their station, heav'n yet populous retains 
Number sufficient to possess her realms 
Though wide, and this high temple to frequent 
With ministeries di:e and solemn rites. 
But lest his heart exalt him in the harm 
Already done, to have dispeopled heav'n, 
My damage fondly deem'd, I can repair 
That detriment, if such it be to lose 
Self-lost, and in a moment will create 
Another world, out of one man a race 
Of men innumerable, there to dwell, 
Not here, till by degrees of merit raised. 
They open to themselves at length the way 
Up hither, imder long obedience tried ; 
And earth be changed to heav'n, and heav'n to earth. 
One kingdom, joy and union without end. 
^Meanwhile inhabit lax, ye powers of heav'n. 
And thou my Word, begotten Son, b}' thee 
This I perform, speak thou, and be it done. 
My overshadowing spirit and might with, thee 
I send along ; ride forth, and bid the deep 
Within appointed bounds be heav'n and earth ; 
Boundless the deep, because I am who fill 
Infinitude, nor vacuous the space ; 
Though I uncircumscribed myself retire. 
And put not forth my goodness, which is free 
To act, or not, necessity and chance 
Approach not me, and what I will is fate. 

So spake th' Almighty, and to what he spake 
His Word, the Filial Godhead, gave effect. 
Immediate are the acts of God, more swift 
Than time or motion, but to human ears 
Cannot without process of speech be told, 
So told as earthly notion can receive. 
Great triumph and rejoicing was in heav'n. 
When such was heard declared the Almighty's will ; 
Glory they sung to the Most High, good will 
To future men, and in their dwelhngs peace ; 








PARADISE LOST. 



JH 



Hif'i ill 

ill' 





Glory to Him, whose jvist avenging ire 
Had driven out th' ungodly from His sight 
And th' habitations of the just ; to Him 
Glory and praise, whose wisdom had ordain 'd 
Good out of evil to create, instead 
Of spirits malign a betier race to bring 
Into their vacant room, and thence diffuse 
His good to worlds and ages iniinite. 

So sang the Hierarchies. Meanwhile the Son 
On his great expedition now appear' d. 
Girt with omnipotence, with radiance crown'd 
Of Majesty divine, sajjience and love 
Immense, and all his Father in him shone. 
About his chariot numberless were pour'd 
Cherub and Seraph, Potentates and Thrones, 
And Virtues, wingCd Spirits, and Chariots wing'd, 
From the armoury of God, where stand of old 
Myriads, between two brazen mountains lodged 
Against a solemn day, harness'd at hand, 
Celestial equipage ; and now came forth 
Spontaneous, for within them spirit lived. 
Attendant on their Lord : heav'n open'd wide 
Her ever-during gates, harmonious sound 
On golden hinges movi: g, to let forth 
The King of glory, in his powerful Word 
And Spirit coming to create new worlds. 
On heav'nly ground they stood, and from the shore 
They view'd the vast immeasurable abyss 
Outrageous as a sea, dark, wasteful, wild. 
Up from the bottom turn'd by furious winds 
And surging waves, as mountains, to assault 
Heav'n's highth, and with the centre mix the pole. 

Silence, ye troubled waves, and, thou deep, peace, 
Said then th' omnific Word, your discord end. 

Nor stay'd ; but, on the wings of Cherubim 
Uplifted, in Paternal Glory rode 
Far into Chaos and the world unborn ; 
F'or Chaos heard his voice. Him all his train 
FoUow'd in bright procession to behold 
Creation, and the wonders of his might. 
Then stay'd the fervid wheels, and iu his hand 
He took the golden compasses, prepared 
In God's eternal store, to circumscribe 
This universe, and all created thmgs. 
One foot he centred, and the other turn'd 
Round through the vast profundity obscure. 
And said, Thus far extend, thus far thy bounds. 
This be thy just circumference, O world. 

Thus God the heav'n created, thus the earth. 
Matter unforni'd and void. Darkness profound 




-A 





is^^'-\4' 



^ 



¥;:;■ 



PARADISE LOST. 

Cover' d th' Abyss ; but on the waterj' calm 
His brooding wings the Spirit of God outspread, 
And vital virtue infused and vital warmth 
Throughout the fluid mass, but downward purged 
The black, tartareous, cold, infernal dregs, 
Adverse to life : then founded, then conglobed 
Like things to like ; the rest to several place 
Disparted, and between spun out the air. 
And earth self-balauced on her centre hung. 

Let there be light, said God, and forthwith light 
Ethereal, first of things, quintessence pure. 
Sprung from the deep, and from her native east 
To journey through the aers' gloom began. 
Sphered in a radiant cloud, for yet the sun 
Was not ; she in a cloudy tabernacle 
Sojourn'd the while. God saw the light was good ; 
And light from darkness by the hemisphere 
Divided : light the da}^ and darkness night. 
He named. Thiis was the first day ev'u and morn : 
Nor past uncelebrated, nor unsung 
By the celestial choirs, when orient light 
Exhaling first from darkness they beheld. 
Birth-day of heav'n and earth ; with joy and shout 
The hollow universal orb they fill'd. 
And touch'd their golden harps, and hymning praised 
God and his works, creator him they sung. 
Both when first evening was, and when first mom. 

Again God said. Let there be firmament 
Amid the waters, and let it divide 
The waters from the waters : and God made 
The firmament, expanse of liquid, pure. 
Transparent, elemental air, diffused 
In circuit to the uttermost convex 
Of this great round ; partition firm and sure, 
The waters underneath from those above 
Dividing : for as earth, so he the world 
Built on circumfluous waters calm, in wide 
Crystalline ocean, and the loud misrule 
Of Chaos far removed, lest fierce extremes 
Contiguous might distemper the whole frame : 
And heav'n He named the firmament : so ev'u 
And morning chorus sung the second day. 

The earth was form'd, but, in the womb as yet 
Of waters embryon immature involved. 
Appear' d not : over all the face of earth 
Main ocean flow'd, not idle, but with warm 
Prolific humour soft'ning all her globe 
Fermented the great mother to conceive, 
Satiate with genial moisture, when God said, 
Be arather'd now, ve waters under heav'n, 






PARADISE LOST. 






Into one place, and let dry land appear. 

Immediately the mountains huge appear 

Emergent, and their broad bare backs upheave 

Into the clouds, their tops ascend the sky. 

So high as heaved the tumid hills, so low 

Down sunk a hollow bottom broad and deep, 

Capacious bed of waters : thither they 

Hasted with glad precipitance, uproll'd 

As drops on dust conglobiug from, the dry : 

Part rise in crystal wall, or ridge direct. 

For haste ; such flight the great command imprest 

On the swift floods : as armies at the call 

Of trumpet, for of armies thou hast heard. 

Troop to their standard, so the watery throng. 

Wave rolling after wave, where way they found ; 

If steep, with torrent rapture, if through plain, 

Soft-ebbing : nor withstood them rock or hill. 

But they, or under ground, or circuit wide 

With serpent error wandering, found their way. 

And on the washy oose deep channels wore, 

Easy, ere God had bid the ground be dry. 

All but within those banks, where rivers now 

Stream, and perpetual draw their humid train. 

The dry land, earth ; and the great receptacle 

Of congregated waters He call'd seas ; 

And saw that it was good, and said. Let the earth 

Put forth the verdant grass, herb yielding seed. 

And fruit-tree yielding fruit after her kind ; 

Whose seed is in herself upon the earth. 

He scarce had said, when the bare earth, till then 

Desert and bare, unsightly, unadorned. 

Brought forth the tender grass, whose verdure clad 

Her universal face with pleasant green ; 

Then herbs of every leaf, that sudden flow'd 

Opening their various colours, and made gay 

Her bosom smelling sweet : and these scarce blown, 

Forth flourish'd thick the clustering vine, forth crept 

The swelling gourd, up stood the corny reed 

Embattled in her field ; and th' humble shrub, 

And bush with frizzled hair implicit : last 

Rose, as in dance, the stately trees, and spread 

Their branches hung with copious fruit, or gemm'd 

Their blossoms : with high woods the hills were crown d, 

With tufts the valleys and each fountain side : 

With borders long the rivers : that earth now 

Seem'd like to heav'n, a seat where Gods might dwell, 

Or wander with delight, and love to haimt 

Her sacred shades : though God had yet not rain'd 

Upon the earth, and man to till the ground 

None was ; but from the earth a dewy mist 




1 




PARADISE LOST. 



123 



Went up and water'd all the ground, and each 
Plant of the field ; which, ere it was in the earth, 
\V,)i !|jl|,t God made, and ever}^ herb, before it grew 
V On the green stem : God saw that it was good : 

So ev'n and morn recorded the third day. 

Again th' Almighty spake : Let there be lights 
High in th' expanse of heaven to divide 
The day from night ; and let them be fov signs, 
For seasons, and for days, and circling years ; 
And let them be for lights, as I ordain 
Their office in the firmament of heav'n 
To give light on the earth ; and it was so. 
And God made two great lights, great for their use 
To man, the greater to have rule by day. 
The less by night, altern : and made the stars. 
And set them in the firmament of heav'n, 
To illuminate the earth, and rule the day 
In their vicissitude, and rule the night, 
And light from darkness to div-ide. God saw, 

, :, - Surveying His great work, that it was good : 

I ' It" For of celestial bodies first the sun, 

A mighty sphere. He framed, uulightsome first, 

Though of ethereal mould : then form'd the moon 

Globose, and every magnitude of stars. 

And sow'd with stars the heav'n thick as a field. 

Of light by far the greater part he took. 

Transplanted from her cloudy shrine, and placed 

In the sun's orb, made porous to receive 

And drink the liquid light, firm to retain 

Her gather'd beams, great palace now of light. 

Hither, as to their fountain, other stars 

Repairing, in their golden urns draw light. 

And hence the morning planet gilds her horns : 

By tincture or reflection they augment 

Their small peculiar, though from human sight 

So far remote, with diminution seen. 

First in his east the glorious lamp was seen, 

Regent of day, and all the horizon round 

Invested with bright rays, jocund to run 

His longitude through heav'n's high road : the gray 

Dawn and the Pleiades before him danced, 

Shedding sweet influence. Less bright the moon, 

But opposite in levell'd west was set 

His mirror, with full face borrowing her light 

From him, for other light she needed none 

In that aspect ; and still the distance keeps 

Till night, then in the east her turn she shines. 

Revolved on heav'n's great axle, and her reign 

With thousand lesser lights dividual holds. 

With thousand thousand stars, that then appear'd 





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I 124 PARADISE LOST. 

I 

Spangling the hemisphere : then first adorn'd 
With their bright luminaries, that set and rose, 
\/, I ""' Glad ev'uing and glad morn crown'd the fourth day. 
And God said, Let the waters generate 
Reptile with spawn abundant, living soul : 
And let fowl fly above the earth, with wings 
Display' d on the open firmament of heav'n. 
And God created the great vv'hales, and each 
Soul living, each that crept, which plenteously 
The waters generated by their kinds, 
And every bird of wing after his kind ; 
And saw that it was good, and bless"d them, saying, 
Be fruitful, multiply, and in the seas, 
And lakes, and running streams, the waters fill ; 
And let the fowl be multiplied on the earth. 
Forthwith the sounds and seas, each creek and bay 
With fry innumerable swarm, and shoals 
Of fish, that with their fins and shining scales 
Glide under the green wave, in sculls that oft 
Bank the mid sea : part single, or with mate. 
Graze the seaweed their pasture, and through groves 
Of coral stray, or sporting with quick glance 
Show to the sun their waved coals dropt with gold ; 
^ Or in their pearly shells at ease attend 

Moist nutriment, or under rocks their food 
In jointed armour watch : on smooth the seal 
¥ And bended dolphins play ; part huge of bulk, 

I Wallowing unwieldly, enormous in their gait, 

; Tempest the ocean : there Leviathan, 

J Hugest of living creatures, on the deep 

Stretch' d like a promontory sleeps, or swims 
■^*° And seems a moving land, and at his gills 

Draws in, and at his trunk spouts out a sea. 
' > Meanwhile the tepid caves, and fens, and shores, 

- Their brood as numerous hatch from the egg, that soon 

Bursting with kindly rupture forth disclosed 
Their callow young ; but feather'd soon and fledge. 
They summ'd their pens, and soaring the air sublime 
With clang despised the ground, under a cloud 
In prospect : there the eagle and the stork 
On cliffs and cedar tops their eyries build : 
Part loosely wing the region, part more wise 
In common ranged in figure, wedge their way 
l Intelligent of seasons, and set forth 

,'/ Their aery caravan, high over seas 

^ Fl5dng, and over lands, with mutual wing 

f Easing their flight ; so steers the prudent crane 

Jill Her annual voyage, borne on winds ; the air 

Floats, as they pass, fann'd with unnumber'd plumes. 
From branch to branch the smaller birds with son"- 








'And God snt'd : Let the waters generate 
Reptile with spawn abundant, living soul: 
And let fowl Jly above the earth." - Book VII., lines 387-389. 



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Ui^*^ 



PARADISE LOST 125 

Solaced the woods, and spread their painted wings 

Till even ; nor then the solemn nightingale 

Ceased warbhng, but all night tuned her soft lays. 

Others on silver lakes and nvers bath d 

Their downy breast; the swan, with archid neck 

Between her white wings mantling proudly, rows 

Her state with oary feet : yet oft they quit 

The dank, and rising on stiff pennons tower 

The mid aerial skv. Others on ground 

Walk'd firm • the'crested cock, whose clarion sounds 

The silent hours, and th' other, whose gay tram 

Adorns him, colour' d with the florid hue 

Of rainbows and starry eyes. The waters thus 

With fish repleuish'd, and the air with lowl, 

Ev'ning and morn solemnized the hltn day. 

The sixth, and of creation last, arose 
With ev'ning harps and matin ; when God said 
Let the earth bring forth soul living m her kind 
Cattle and creeping things, and beast of the earth 
Each iu their kind. The earth obey d, and straight 
Op'ning her fertile womb teem'd at a birtli 
Innumerous living creatures, perfect forms 
Snib'd and full grown. Out of the ground up rose 
\s from his lair the wild beast, where he wouus 
in forest wild, in thicket, brake, or den ; 
Among the trees in pairs they rose, they walk d , 
The cattle in the fields and meadows green : 
Those rare and solitary, these in flocks 
Pasturing at once, and in broad herds upsprung 
The grassy clods now calved ; now hah appear d 
The tawny lion, pawing to get free 
His hinder parts, then springs as broke f^o^ bonds, 
\nd rampant shakes his brinded mane ; the ounce, 
The libbard, and the tiger, as the mole 
Risincr the crumbled earth above them threw 
In hillocks ; the swift stag from under ground 
Bore up his branching head ; scarce from his mould 
Behemoth biggest born of earth, upheaved 
His vStness ^fleeced the flocks and bleating rose, 
As plants : ambiguous between sea and land 
The river horse and scaly crocodile. 
\t once came forth whatever creeps the ground, 
Insect or worm ; those waved their limber fans 
For wings, and smallest lineaments exact 
In all the liveries deck'd of summer's pnde 
With spots of gold and purple, azure and green : 
These as a line their long dimensions drew, 
Streaking the ground with sinuous trace ; not all 
Minims of nature ; some of serpent kind 
Wondrous in length and corpulence, involved 






126 



PARADISE LOST. 



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ii 



V^}: 










Their snaky folds and added wings. First crept 

The parsimonious emmet, provident 

Of future, in small room large heart inclosed. 

Pattern of just equality perhaps 

Hereafter, join'd in her popular tribes 

Of commonalty . swarming next appear'd 

The female bee, that feeds her husband drone 

Deliciously and builds her waxen cells 

With honey stored : the rest are numberless, 

And thou their natures know'st, and gav'st them names, 

Needless to thee repeated ; nor unknown 

The serpent, subtlest beast of all the field. 

Of huge extent sometimes, with brazen eyes 

And hairy mane terrific, though to thee 

Not noxious, but obedient at thy call. 

Now heav'n in all her glory shone, and roll'd 
Her motions, as the great First Mover's hand 
First wheel'd their course ; earth in her rich attire 
Consummate lovely smiled ; air, water, earth. 
By fowl, fish, beast, was flown, was swum, was walk'd 
Frequent ; and of the sixth day yet remain'd ; 
There wanted yet the master work, the end 
Of all yet done ; a creature, who not prone 
And brute as other creatures, but indued 
With sanctity of reason, might erect 
His stature, and upright with front serene 
Govern the rest, self-knowing ; and from thence 
Magnanimous to correspond with heav'n ; 
But grateful to acknowledge whence his good 
Descends, thither with heart, and voice, and eyes 
Directed in devotion to adore 
And worship God supreme, who made him chief 
Of all His works : therefore the omnipotent 
Eternal Father, — for where is not He 
Present? — thus to his Son audibly spake. 

Let us make now man in our image, man 
In our similitude, and let them rule 
Over the fish and fowl of sea and air. 
Beast of the field and over all the earth. 
And every creeping thing that creeps the ground. 
This said, He form'd thee, Adam, thee, O man. 
Dust of the ground, and in thj' nostrils breathed 
The breath of life : in his own image he 
Created thee, in the image of God 
Express, and thou becam'st a living soul. 
Male he created thee, but thy consort 
Female for race ; then bless'd mankind, and said, 
Be fruitful, multiply, and fill the earth, 
Subdue it, and throughout dominion hold 
Over fish of the sea, and fowl of the air, 



^^^^^, 



JU 111 





u 



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fc 



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PARADISE LOST. 

And every living thing that moves on the earth. 
Wherever thus created, for no place 
Is yet distinct by name, thence, as thou know'st, 
He brought thee into this delicious grove, 
This garden, planted with the trees of God, 
Delectable both to behold and taste ; 
And freely all their pleasant fruit for food 
Gave thee, all sorts are here that all tli' earth yields, 
Varietj' without end ; but of the tree. 
Which tasted works knowledge of good and evil. 
Thou may'st not : in the day thou eat'st thou diest ; 
Death is the penalty imposed ; beware. 
And govern well thy appetite ; lest sin 
Surprise thee, and her black attendant death. 
Here finish'd He, and all that He had made 
View'd, and behold all was entirely good ; 
So ev'n and mom accomplish'd the sixth day : 
Yet not, till the Creator from His work 
Desisting, though unwearied, up retum'd, 
Up to the heav'n of heav'ns His high abode, 
Thence to behold this new created world, 
Th' addition of His empire, how it show'd 
In prospect from His throne, how good, how fair 
Answering His great idea. Up He rode, 
Follow'd with acclamation and the sound 
Symphonious of ten thousand harps, that tuned 
Angelic harmonies : the earth, the air 
Resounded, thou remember' st, for thou heard'st; 
The heav'ns and all the constellations rung. 
The planets in their station list'ning stood, 
While the bright pomp ascended jubilant. 
Open, ye everlasting gates, they sung, 
Open, ye heavens, your living doors ; let in 
The great Creator, from His work retum'd 
Magnificent, His six days' work, a world : 
Open, and henceforth oft ; for God will deign 
To visit oft the dwellings of just men 
Delighted, and with frequent intercourse 
Thither will send his winged messengers 
On errands of supernal grace. So sung 
The glorious train ascending : He through heav'n, 
That open'd wide her blazing portals, led 
To God's eternal house direct the wa}-, 
A broad and ample road, whose diist is gold. 
And pavement stars, as stars to thee appear 
Seen in the galaxy, that milky way 
Which nightly as a circling zone thou seest 
Powder'd with stars. And now on earth the seventh 
Ev'ning arose in Eden, for the sun 
Was set, and twilight from the east came on, 



:^^=^tevfci 



127 



fc 





128 



PARADISE LOST. 



Forerunning night ; when at the holy mount 
Of heaven's high seated top, th' imperial throne 
Of Godhead, fix'd for ever firm and sure, 
The Filial Power arrived, and sat Him down 
With His great Father ; for He also went 
Invisible, yet stay'd, such privilege 
Hath Omnipresence, and the work ordain'd, 
Author and end of all things, and from work 
Now resting, bless'd and hallow'd the seventh day. 
As resting on that day from all His work, 
But not iu silence holy kept ; the harp 
Had work, and rested not ; the solemn pipe 
And dulcimer, all organs of sweet stop. 
All sounds on fret by string or golden wire, 
Temper'd soft tunings, intermix'd with voice 
Choral or unison : of incense, clouds 
Fuming from golden censers hid the mount. 
Creation and the six days' acts they sung ; 
Great are thy works, Jehovah, infinite 
Thy power ; what thought can measure thee, or tongue 
Relate thee ? greater now in thy return 
Than from the giant angels ; thee that day 
Thy thunders magnified ; but to create 
Is greater than created to destroy. 
Who can impair thee, mighty King, or bound 
Thy empire ? easily the proud attempt 
Of spirits apostate and their counsels vain 
Thou hast repell'd, while impiously they thought 
Thee to diminish, and from thee withdraw 
The number of thy worshippers. Who seeks 
To lessen thee, against his purpose serves 
To manifest the more thy might : his evil 
Thou usest, and from thence creat'st more good. 
Witness this new-made world, another heav'n 
From heaven gate not far, founded in view 
On the clear hyaline, the glassy sea ; 
Of amplitude almost immense, with stars 
Numerous, and every star perhaps a world 
Of destined habitation ; but thou know'st 
Their seasons : among these the seat of men, 
Earth, with her nether ocean circumfused. 
Their pleasant dwelHng place. Thrice happy men, 
And sons of men, whom God hath thus advanced. 
Created in His image, there to dwell 
And worship Him ; and in reward to rule 
Over His works, on earth, in sea, or air. 
And multiply a race of worshippers 
Holy and just : thrice happy, if they know 
Their happiness.and persevere upright. 
So sung they, and the empyrean rung 






te^ 









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COM us. 129 

Plucking ripe clusters from the tender shoots ; 

Their port was more than human, as they stood : 

I took it for a faery vision 

Of some gay creatures of the element, 

That in the colours of the rainbow live, 

And play i' th' plighted clouds. I was awe-struck, 

And as I pass'd, I worshipp'd ; if those you seek. 

It were a journey like the path, to heav'n, 

To help you find them. 

Lad. Gentle Villager, 
What readiest way would bring me to that place? 

Com. I )ue west it rises from this shrubby point. 

Lad. To find that out, good Shepherd, I suppose. 
In such a scant allowance of star-light. 
Would overtask the best land-pilot's art, 
Without the sure guess of well-practised feet. 

Com. I know each lane, and every alley green 
Dingle or bushy dell of this wild wood, 
And every bosky bourn from side to side. 
My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood ; 
And if your stray-attendants be yet lodged 
Or shroud within these limits. I shall know 
Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark 
From her thatch'd pallet rouse ; if otherwise 
I can conduct you. Lady, to a low 
But loyal cottage, where you may be safe 
Till further quest. 

Lad. Shepherd, I take thy word. 
And trust thy honest offer'd courtesy. 
Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds 
With smoky rafters, than in tap'strj' halls 
And courts of princes, where it first was named, 
And yet is most pretended : in a place 
Less warranted than this, or less secure, 
I cannot be, that I should fear to change it. 
Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial 
To my proportion' d strength. Shepherd, lead on. 

Enter the two Brothers. 

I Br. UnmuiBe, ye faint stars, and thou, fair moon. 
That wont'st to love the traveller's benizon, 
Stoop thy pale visage through an amber cloud. 
And disinherit Chaos, that reigns here 
In double night of darkness and of shades ; 
Or if your influence be quite damm'd up 
With black usurping mists, some gentle taper. 
Though a a rush candle, from the wicker-hole 
Of some clay habitation, visit us 
With thy long-levell'd rule of streaming light ; 
And thou shalt be our star of Arcad}-, 





1%.^. 





I30 



COMUS. 




i[f 




Or Tyrian Cynosure. 

2 Br. Or if our eyes 
Be barr'd that happiness, might we but hear 
The folded flocks penn'd in their wattled cotes, 
Or sound of past'ral reed with oaten stops. 
Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock 
Count the night watches to his feathery dames, 
'Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering 
In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs. 
But O that hapless virgin, our lost Sister, 
Where may she wander now, whither betake her 
From the chill dew, among rude burs and thistles? 
Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now. 
Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm 
Leans her unpillow'd head, fraught with sad fears 
What, if in wild amazement, and affright, 
Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp 
Of savage hunger, or of savage heat? 

1 Br. Peace, Brother, be not over-exquisite 
To cast the fashion of uncertain evils ; 

For grant they be so, while they rest unknown, 

What need a man forestall his date of grief. 

And run to meet what he would most avoid ? 

Or if they be but false alarms of fear. 

How bitter is such self-delusion ! 

I do not think my Sister so to seek, 

Or so ^niprincipled in virtue's book, 

And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever, 

As that the single want of light and noise 

(Not being in danger, as I trust she is not) 

Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts 

And put them into misbecoming plight. 

Virtue could see to do what virtue would 

By her own radiant light, though sun and moon 

Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self 

Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, 

Where with her best nurse Contemplation 

She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings, 

That in the various bustle of resort 

Were all-to ruffled, and sometimes impair'd. 

He that has light within his own clear breast. 

May sit i' th' centre, and enjoy bright day : 

But he that hides a dark soul, and foul thoughts, 

Benighted walks under the mid-day sun ; 

Himself is his own dungeon. 

2 Br. 'Tis most true, • 
That musing meditation most affects 

The pensive secrecy of desert cell. 

Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds, 

And sits as safe as in a senate house ; 



.'\:'l 





J 





■m 





For who would rob a hermit of l:is weeds, 
His few books, or his beads, or maple dish, 
Or do his grey hairs any violence? 
But beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree 
Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard 
Of dragon watch with unenchanted eye, 
To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit 
From the rash hand of bold incontinence. 
You may as well spread out the unsunn'd heaps 
Of miser's treasure by an outlaw's den, 
And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope 
Danger will wink on opportunit}-. 
And let a single helpless maiden pass 
Uninjured in this wild surrounding waste. 
Of night, or loneliness, it recks me not ; 
I fear the dread events that dog them both, 
Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person 
Of our unowned Sister. 

1 Br. I do not, Brother 

Infer, as if I thought my Sister's state 
Secure without all doubt, or controversy ; 
Yet where an equal poise of hope and fear 
Does arbitrate th' event, my nature is 
That I incline to hope, rather than fear. 
And gladly banish squint suspicion. 
My Sister is not so defenceless left, 
As }-ou imagine ; she has a hidden strength 
Which you remember not. 

2 Br. What hidden strength, 

Unless the strength of Heav'n, if you mean that? 

I Br. I mean that too, but yet a hidden strength, 
Which, if Heav'n gave it, may be term'd her own ; 
'Tis chastity, my Brother, chastity : 
She that has that, is clad in complete steel. 
And like aquiver'd Nymph with arrows keen 
May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths. 
Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds. 
Where through the sacred rays of chastity. 
No savage fierce, bandit, or mountaineer 
Will dare to soil her \drgin purity : 
Yea there, where very desolation dwells, 
By grots, and caverns shagg'd with horrid shades, 
She may pass on with un blench' d majest}-, 
Be it not done in pride, or in presumption. 
Some say no evil thing that walks by night. 
In fog, or fire, by lake, or moorish fen, 
Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost, 
That breaks his magic chains at curfew time, 
No goblin, or swart faery of the mine. 
Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity. 



•> 



./?/ 




k. 







132 COM us. 

Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call 

Antiquity from the old schools of Greece 

To testify the arms of chastity ? 

Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow, 

Fair silver-shafted queen, for ever chaste, 

"Wherewith she tamed the brinded lioness 

And spotted mountain pard, but set at nought 

The frivolous bolt of Cupid; Gods and men 

Fear'd her stern frown, and she was queen o' th' woods. 

What was that snaky-headed Gorgon shield. 

That wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin, 

Wherewith she freezed her foes to congeal' d stone, 

But rigid looks of chaste austerity. 

And noble grace that dash'd brute violence 

With sudden adoration and blank awe ? 

So dear to heav'n is saintly chastity. 

That when a soul is found sincerely so, 

A thousand liveried angels lacky her. 

Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt. 

And in clear dream, and solemn vision. 

Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear, 

Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants 

Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape, 

The unpolluted temple of the mind. 

And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence, 

Till all be made immortal : but when lust, 

By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk, 

But most by lewd and lavish act of sin, 

Lets in defilement to the inward parts. 

The soul grows clotted by contagion, 

Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite lose 

The divine property of her first being. 

Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp 

Oft seen in charnel vaults, and sepulchres, 

Ling'ring and sitting by a new-made grave, 

As loath to leave the body that it loved, 

And link'd itself by carnal sensualit}' 

To a degenerate and degraded state. 

2 Br. How charming is divine philosophy ! 
Not harsh, and crabbed, as dull fools suppose, 
But musical, as is Apollo's lute. 
And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets. 
Where no crude surfeit reigns. 

1 Br. List, list, I hear 
Some far off halloo break the silent air. 

2 Br. Methought so too : what should it be ? 
I Br. For certain 

Either some one like us night-founder' d here. 
Or else some neighbour woodman, or, at worst, 
Some roving robber calling to his fellows. 



-^^ 



V 







COMUS. 



133 







h 



ill 



2 Br. Heav'n keep my Sister. Again, again, and near ; 
Best draw, and stand upon our guard. 

1 Br. I'll lialloo ; 

If lie be friendly, lie comes well ; if not. 
Defence is a good cause, and Heav'n be for us. 

Enter the attendant Spirit, habited like a shepherd. 

That halloo I should know, what are you ? speak ; 
Come not too near, you fall on iron stakes else. 

Spir. What voice is that ? my young L,ord ? speak again. 

2 Br. O brother, 'tis my father's shepherd, sure. 

I Br. Thyrsis? whose artful strains have oft dela^-'d 
The huddling brook to hear his madrigal, 
And sweeten'd every muskrose of the dale. 
How cam' St thou here, good swain ? hath anj^ ram 
Slipt from the fold, or young kid lost his dam. 
Or straggling wether the pent flock forsook ? 
How couldst thou find this dark sequester'd nook? 

Spir. O my loved master's heir, and his next joy, 
I came not here on such a trivial toy 
As a stray'd ewe, or to pursue the stealth 
Of pilfering wolf; not all the fleecy wealth 
That doth enrich these downs is worth a thought 
To this my errand, and the care it brought. 
But, O my virgin Lady, where is she ? 
How chance she is not in your company ? 

I Br. To tell thee sadly. Shepherd, without blame. 
Or our neglect, we lost her as we came. 

Spir. Aye me unhappy ! then my fears are true. 

I Br. WTiat fears, good Thyrsis? Prithee briefly show. 

Spir. I'll tell ye ; 'tis not vain or fabulous. 
Though so esteem'd by shallow ignorance. 
What the sage poets, taught by th' heav'nly Muse, 
Storied of old, in high immortal verse, 
Of dire chimeras, and enchanted isles. 
And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to Hell ; 
For such there be, but unbelief is blind. 

Within the navel of this hideous wood. 
Immured in cypress shades a sorcerer dwells. 
Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus. 
Deep skill' d in all his mother's witcheries. 
And here to every thirsty wanderer 
By sh' enticement gives his baneful cup, 
With many murmurs mix'd, whose pleasing poison 
The \-isage quite transforms of him that drinks. 
And the inglorious likeness of a beast 
Fixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintage 
Character'd in the face : this I have learnt 
Tending my flocks hard by i' th' hilly crofts, 



V I' 



«s 





M\ 



1 li 





That brow this bottom-glade, whence, night by night, 
He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl. 
Like stabled wolves, or tigers at their prey. 
Doing abhorred rites to Hecate 
In their obscured haunts of inmost bowers. 
Yet have they many baits, and guileful spells, 
T' inveigle and invite th' unwary sense 
Of them that pass unweeting by the way. 
This ev'ning late, by then the chewing flocks 
Had ta'en their supper on the savoury herb 
Of knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold, 
I sat me down to watch upon a bank 
With ivy canopied, and interwove 
With flaunting honey-suckle, and began, 
Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy, 
To meditate my rural ministrelsy. 
Till fancy had her fill, but ere a close. 
The wonted roar was up amidst the woods. 
And fill'd the air with barbarous dissonance ; 
At which I ceased, and listen'd them a while. 
Till an unusual stop of sudden silence 
Gave respite to the drowsy frighted steeds. 
That draw the litter of close-curtain 'd sleep. 
At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound 
Rose like a steam of rich distill'd perfumes, 
And stole upon the air, that even Silence 
Was took ere she was ware, and wish'd she might 
Deny her nature, and be never more. 
Still to be so displaced. I was all ear. 
And took in strains that might create a soul 
Under the ribs of death ; but O ere long 
Too well I did perceive it was the voice 
Of my most honour'd Lady, your dear Sister. 
Amazed I stood, harrow'd with grief and fear. 
And O poor hapless nightingale thought I, 
How sweet thou sing'st, how near the deadly snare ! 
Then down the lawns I ran with headlong haste. 
Through paths and turnings often trod by day. 
Till guided by mine ear I found the place, 
Where that damn'd wisard, hid in sly disguise, 
( For so by certain signs I knew) had met 
Already, ere my best speed could prevent, 
The aidless innocent Lady his wish'd pre)-. 
Who gently ask'd if he had seen such two. 
Supposing him some neighbour villager. 
Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guess'd 
Ye \\ere the two she meant ; with that I sprung 
Into swift flight, till I had found you here. 
But further know I not. 
2 Br. O night and shades, 













How are ye join'd with Hell in triple knot. 
Against the unarm'd weakness of one virgin, 
Alone and helpless ! Is this the confidence 
You gave me, Brother ? 

I Br. Yes, and keep it still. 
Lean on it safely ; not a period 
Shall be unsaid for me : against the threats 
Of malice or of sorcery, or that power 
Which erring men call Chance, this I hold firm. 
Virtue may be assail' d, but never hurt, 
Surpiised by unjust force, but not enthrall'd ; 
Yea even that which mischief meant most harm, 
Shall in the happy trial prove most glory : 
But evil on itself shall back recoil. 
And mix no more with goodness, when at last 
Gather'd like scum, and settled to itself. 
It shall be in eternal restless change 
Self-fed, and self-consumed : if this fail, 
The pillar' d firmament is rottenness. 
And earth's base built on stubble. But come, let's on. 
Against the opposing will and arm of heaven 
May never this just sword be lifted up ; 
But for that damn'd musician, let him be girt 
With all the grisly legions that troop 
Under the sooty flag of Acheron, 
Harpies and Hydras, or all the monstrous forms 
'Twixt Africa and Ind, I'll find him out, 
And force him to return his purchase back. 
Or drag him by the curls to a foul death, 
Cursed as his life. 

Spir. Alas ! good vent'rous youth, _ 
I love thy courage yet, and bold emprise ; 
But here thy sword can do thee little stead, 
Far other arms and other weapons must 
Be those that quell the might of hellish charms : 
He with his bare wand can unthread thy joints. 
And crumble all thy sinews. 

I Br. Why prithee. Shepherd, 
How durst thou then thyself approach so near, 
As to make this relation ? 

Spir. Care and utmost shifts 
How to secure the Lady from surprisal. 
Brought to my mind a certain shepherd lad. 
Of small regard to see to, yet well skill' d 
In every virtuous plant and healing herb, 
That spVeads her verdant leaf to th' morning ray : 
He loved me well, and oft would beg me sing. 
Which when I did, he on the tender grass 
Would sit, and hearken e'en to ecstasy, 
And in requital ope his leathern scrip, 





^'ts 





136 



COMUS. 



\ . 




And show me simples of a thousand names, 

Telling their strange and vigorous faculties : > 

Amongst the rest a small unsightly root, ' 

But of divine effect, he cull'd me out ; 

The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it. 

But in another country, as he said, 

Bore a bright golden flow'r, but not in this soil : 

Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain 

Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon 

And yet more med'cinal is it than that moly 

That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave ; 

He call'd it hsemony, and gave it me. 

And bad me keep it as of sovereign use 

'Gainst all enchantment, mildew, blast, or damp, 

Or ghastly furies' apparition. 

I pursed it up, but little reck'ning made, 

Till now that this extremity compell'd : 

But now I find it true ; for by this means 

I knew the foul enchanter though disguised, 

Enter' d the very lime-twigs of his spells, 

And yet came off : if you have this about you, 

(As I will give you when we go) you may 

Boldly assault the necromancer's hall ; 

Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood. 

And brandish'd blade rush on him, break his glass, 

And shed the luscious liquor on the ground. 

But seize his wand ; though he and his cursed crew 

Fierce sign of battle make, and menace high. 

Or like the sons of Vulcan vomit smoke. 

Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink. 

I Br. Thyrsis, lead on apace, I'll follow thee. 
And some good Angel bear a shield before us. 

The Scene changes to a stately palace, set out with all manner of 
deliciousness ; soft music, tables spread with all dainties. Comus 
appears with his rabble, and the Lady set in an enchanted chair, 
to whom he offers his glass, which she puts by, and goes about to 
rise. 

Com. Na}^ Lady, sit ; if I but wave this wand. 
Your nerves are all chain'd up in alabaster, 
And you a statue, or as Daphne was 
Root-bound, that fled Apollo. 

Lad. Fool, do not boast, 
Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind 
"With all thy charms, although this corporal rind 
Thou hast immanacled, while Heav"n sees good. 

Com. Why are you vext, Lady ? why do you frown ? 
Here dwell no frowns, nor anger ; from these gates 
Sorrow flies far : See, here be all the pleasures 
That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts. 
When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns 




V. 



'^- 





C03/US. 



137 




i-i^ 



"^ 



Brisk as the April buds in primrose-season. 

And first behold this cordial julep here, 

That flames, and dances in his crystal bounds, 

With spirits of balm, and fragrant syrups mix'd. 

Not that Nepenthes, which the wife of Thone 

In ^-Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena, 

Is of such power to stir up joy as this. 

To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst. 

Why should you be so cruel to yourself. 

And to those 'dainty limbs which Nature lent 

For gentle usage, and soft delicacy ? 

But you invert the covenants of her trust, 

And harshly deal, like an ill borrower. 

With that which you received on other terms ; 

Scorning the unexempt condition 

By which all mortal frailty must subsist, 

Refreshment after toil, ease after pain. 

That have been tired all day withotit repast, 

And timely rest have wanted ; but, fair Virgin, 

This will restore all soon. 

Lad. 'Twill not, false traitor, 
'Twill not restore the truth and honesty 
That thou hast banish'd from thy tongue with lies. 
Was this the Cottage, and the safe abode 
Thou toldst me of? What grim aspects are these. 
These ugly-headed monsters? Mercy guard me ! 
Hence with thy brew'd enchantments, foul deceiver; 
Hast thou betray'd my credulous innocence 
With visor'd falsehood and base forgery? 
And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here 
With liquorish baits fit to ensnare a brute? 
Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets, 
I would not taste thy treasonous offer ; none 
But such as are good men can give good things. 
And that which is not good, is not delicious 
To a well-govern'd and wise appetite. 

Com. O foolishness of men ! that lend their ears 
To those budge doctors of the Stoic fur, 
And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub, 
Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence. 
W^herefore did Nature pour her bounties forth, 
With such a full and unwithdrawing hand, 
Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks, 
Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable, 
But all to please, and sate the curious taste ? 
And set to work millions of spinning worms. 
That in their green shops weave the smooth-hair'd silk 
To deck her sons ; and that no corner might 
Be vacant of her plentv, in her own loins 
She hutch'd the all-worshipp'd ore, and precious gems, 






138 



COMUS. 




^ 





To store her children with : if all the world 

Should iu a pet of temp'rance feed on pulse, 

Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear bvit frieze, 

Th' All-giver would be unthank'd, would be unpraised, 

Not half his riches known, and yet despised ; 

And we should serve him as a grudging master, 

As a penurious niggard of his wealth ; 

And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons. 

Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight, 

And strangled with her waste fertility ; 

Th' earth cuniber'd, and thewing'dair dark'd with plumes. 

The herds would over-multitude their lords, 

The sea o'erfraught would swell, and the unsought diamond 

Would so emblaze the forehead of the deep, 

And so bestud with stars, that they below 

Would grow inured to light, and come at last 

To gaze upon the sun with shameless brows. 

List, Lady, be not coy, and be not cozen'd 

With that same vaunted name Virginity. 

Beauty is Nature's coin, must not be hoarded 

But rnust be current, and the good thereof 

Consists in mutual and partaken bliss, 

Unsavoury in th' enjoyment of itself; 

If you let slip time, like a neglected rose 

It withers on the stalk with languish'd head. 

Beauty is Nature's brag, and must be shown 

In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities, 

Where most may wonder at the workmanship ; 

It is for homely features to keep home. 

They had their name thence ; coarse complexions, 

And cheeks of sorry grain, will serve to ply 

The sampler, and to tease the huswife's wool. 

What need a vermeil-tinctured lip for that, 

Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn ? 

There was another meaning in these gifts, 

Think what, and be advised, you are but young yet. 

Lad. I had not thought to have unlockt my lips 
In this unhallow'd air, but that this juggler 
Would think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes, 
Obtruding false rules prank 'd in reason's garb. 
I hate when vice can bolt her argumerits, 
And virtue has no tongue to check her pride. 
Impostor, do not charge most innocent Nature, 
As if she would her children should be riotous 
With her abundance ; she, good cateress, 
Means her provision only to the good, 
That live according to her sober laws, 
And holy dictate of spare temperance : 
If every just man, that now pinc'^ with want, 
Had but a moderate and beseeming share 



"^11/ ,,,. 



'/-C 











COMUS. 



139 



"^^ 




Of that which lewdly-pamper'd luxury 

Now heaps upon some few with vast excess, 

Nature's full blessings would be well dispensed 

In unsuperfluous even proportion, 

And she no whit iucumber'd with her store ; 

And then the giver would be better thank'd, 

His praise due paid ; for swinish gluttony 

Ne'er looks to heav'n amidst his gorgeous feast, 

But -«-ith besotted base ingratitude 

Crams, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I go on ? 

Or have I said enough ? To him that dares 

Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words 

Against the sun-clad power of Chastity, 

Fain would I something say, yet to what end ? 

Thou hast nor ear, nor soul to apprehend 

The sublime notion, and high mystery, 

That must be utter' d to unfold the sage 

And serious doctrine of Virginity, 

And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know 

More happiness than this thy present lot. 

Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric. 

That 'hath so well been taught her dazzling fence. 

Thou art not fit to hear thyself convinced ; 

Yet should I trv, the uncontrolled worth 

Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits 

To such a flame of sacred vehemence, 

That dumb things would be moved to sympathize, 

And the brute earth would lend her nerves, and shake, 

Till all thy magic structures rear'd so high. 

Were shatter' d'into heaps o'er thy false head. 

Com. She fables not, I feel that I do fear 
Her words set off bv some superior power : 
And though not mortal, yet a cold shudd'ring dew 
Dips me all o'er, as when the wrath of Jove 
Speaks thunder, and the chains of Erebus, 
To some of Saturn's crew. I must dissemble, 
And try her yet more strongly. Come, no more. 
This is mere moral babble, and direct 
Against the canon-laws of our foundation ; 
I must not suffer this, yet 'tis but the lees 
And settlings of a melancholy blood : 
But this will cure all straight, one sip of this 
Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight, 
Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste — 

The Brothers rush in with swords drawn, wrest his glass out of his 
hand, and break it aprainst the ground ; his rout make sign of re- 
sistance, but are all driven in. 
The attendant Spirit comes in. 

Spir. What, have you let the false enchanter 'scape? 
O ye mistook, ye should have snatch'd his wand. 



^=~^ 





-W' 



140 



COMUS. 






And bound him fast ; without his rod reversed, 

And backward mutters of dissevering power, 

We cannot free the Lady that sits here 

In stony fetters fix'd, and motionless. 

Yet stay, be not disturb'd : now I bethink me, 

Some other means I have which may be used, 

Which once of Mehboeus old I learnt, 

The soothest shepherd that e'er piped on plains. 

There is a gentle nymph not far from hence, 
That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream, 
Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure ; 
Whilome she was the daughter of Locrine, 
That had the sceptre from his father Brute. 
She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit 
Of her enraged stepdame Guendolen, 
Commended her fair innocence to the flood, 
That stay'd her flight with his cross-flowing course. 
The water nymphs that in the bottom play'd, 
Held up their pearled wrists, and took her in, 
Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall, 
Who piteous of her woes, rear'd her lank head, 
And gave her to his daughters to imbathe 
In nectar'd lavers strow'd with asphodel, 
And through the porch and inlet of each sense 
Dropp'd in ambrosial oils, till she revived, 
And underwent a quick immortal change, 
Made Goddess of the river : still she retains 
Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve 
Visits the herds along the twilight meadows. 
Helping all urchin blasts, and ill-luck signs 
That the shrewd meddling elf delights to make. 
Which she with precious vial'd liquors heals. 
For which the shepherds at their festivals 
Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays, 
And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream 
Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils. 
And, as the old swain said, she can unlock 
The clasping charm, and thaw the numbing spell, 
If she be right invoked in warbled song, 
For maidenhood she loves, and will be swift 
To aid a virgin, such as was herself, 
In hard-besetting need ; this will I try, 
And add the power of some adjuring verse. 

SONG. 

Sabrina fair, 

Listen where thou art sitting 
Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave. 

In twisted braids of lilies knitting 
The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair ; 



.1 




a 



h 





-^ 



COMUS. 



141 



■^ 




Listen for dear honour's sake, 

Goddess of the silver lake, 
Listen and save. 
Listen and appear to us 
In name of great Oceanus, 
By th' earth-shaking Neptune's mace, 
And Tethys' grave majestic pace, 
B)' hoary Nereus' wrinkled look, 
And the Carpathian wisard's hook, 
By scaly Triton's winding shell, 
And old soothsaying Glaucus' spell, 
By Leucothea's lovely hands, 
And her son that rules the strands. 
By Thetis' tinsel-slipper' d feet, 
And the songs of Sirens sweet, 
By dead Parthenope's dear tomb. 
And fair Ligea's golden comb. 
Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks. 
Sleeking her soft alluring locks. 
By all the nymphs that nightly dance 
Upon thy streams with wily glance. 
Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head 
From thy coral-paven bed. 
And bridle in thy headlong wave, 
Till thou our summons answer'd have. 

Listen and save. 

Sabrina rises, attended by water-nymphs, and sings. 

By the rushy-fringed bank 

Where grows the willow and the osier dank, 

M}^ sliding chariot staj-s. 
Thick set with agate, and the azure sheen 
Of turkis blue, and emerald green. 

That in the channel strays ; 
■\\Tiilst from off the waters fleet, 
Thus I set my printless feet 
O'er the cowslip's velvet head, 

That bends not as I tread ; 
Gentle Swain, at thy request 

I am here. 

Sp. Goddess dear. 
We implore thy pow'rful hand 
To undo the charmed band 
Of true \'irgin here distrest. 
Through the force, and through the wile 
Of unblest enchanter vile. 

Sabr. Shepherd, 'tis my office best 
To help insnared chastity : 
Brightest Lady, look on me ; 
Thus I sprinkle on thy breast 






m!<^ 




\w 





COMUS 



Drops that from my fountain pure 

I have kept of precious cure, 

Thrice upon thy finger's tip, 

Thrice upon thy rubied lip ; 

Next this marble venom'd seat, 

Smear' d with gums of glutinous heat, 

I touch with chaste palms moist and cold : 

Now the spell hath lost his hold ; 

And I must haste ere morning hour 

To wait in Amphitrite's bower. 

Sabrina descends, and the Lady rises out of her seat. 

Sp. Virgin, daughter of Locrine 
Sprung of old Anchises' line, 
May thy brimmed waves for this 
Their full tribute never miss 
From a thousand petty rills, 
That tumble down the snowy hills : 
Summer drouth, or singed air 
Never scorch thy tresses fair. 
Nor wet October's torrent flood 
Thy molten crystal fill with mud ; 
May thy billows roll ashore 
The beryl, and the golden ore ; 
May thy lofty head be crown'd 
With many a tow'r and terrace round, 
And here and there thy banks upon 
With groves of myrrh and cinnamon. 

Come, Lady, while Heav'n lends us grace, 
Let us fly this cursed place, 
Lest the sorcerer us entice 
With some other new device. 
Not a waste, or needless sound, 
Till we come to holier ground ; 
I shall be your faithful guide 
Through this gloomy covert wide, 
And not many furlongs thence 
Is your Father's residence. 
Where this night are met in state 
Many a friend to gratulate 
His wish'd presence, and beside 
All the swains that there abide. 
With jigs, and rural dance resort ; 
We shall catch them at their sport, 
And our sudden coming there 
Will double all their mirth and cheer ; 
Come, let us haste, the stars grow high , 
But night sits monarch yet in the mid sky. 

The Scene changes, presenting Ludlow town and the President's 
castle, then come in country dancers, after them the attendant 
Spint, with the two Brothers and the Lady. 



*=§c-m^ >'1W^^^ 



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A. 





/■ 




'S'l/' 



C03IUS. 



SONG. 



143 



Sp. Back, Shepherds, back, enough your pla}-, 
Till next sunshine holiday ; 
Here be without duck or nod 
Other trippings to be trod 
Of lighter toes, and suth court guise 
As Mercvu-y did first de\ase. 
With the mincing Dr^-ades, 
On the lawns, and on the leas. 

This second Song presents them to their Father and Mother. 

Noble Lord, and Lady bright, 

I have brought ye new delight, 

Here behold so goodly grown 

Three fair branches of your own ; 

Heav'n hath timely tried their youth, 

Their faith, their patience, and their truth, 

And sent them here through hard assays 

With a crown of deathless praise, 

To triumph in victorious dance 

O'er sensual folly, and intemperance. 

The dances ended, the Spirit epiloguises. 

Sp. To the ocean now I fly, 
And those happy climes that lie 
Where day never shuts his eye. 
Up in the broad fields of the sky : 
There I suck the liquid air 
All amidst the gardens fair 
Of Hesperus, and his daughters three 
That sing about the golden tree : 
Along the crisped shades and bowers 
Revels the spruce and jocund Spring, 
The Graces, and the rosv-bosom'd Hours, 
Thither all their bounties bring ; 
There eternal Summer dwells, 
And west-winds, with musky wing. 
About the cedarn alleys fling 
Nard and cassia's balmy smells. 
Iris there with humid bow 
Waters the odorous banks, that blow 
Flowers of more mingled hue 
Than her purfled scarf can show. 
And drenches with Elysian dew 
(List mortals, if j-our ears be true) 
Beds of hyacinth and roses. 
Where young Adonis oft reposes, 
Waxing well of his deep wound 
In slumber soft, and on the ground 



/;■ 







144 



fe 



COMUS. 

Sadly sits th' Assyrian queen ; 
But far above in spangled sheen 
Celestial Cupid her famed son advanced, 
Holds his dear Psyche sweet entranced, 
After her wand' ring labours long, 
Till free consent the Gods among 
Make her his eternal bride, 
And from her fair unspotted side 
Two blissful twins are to be born. 
Youth and Joy ; so Jove hath sworn. 
But now my task is smoothly done, 
I can fly, or I can run 
Quickly to the green earth's end, 
Where the bow'd welkin slow doth bend, 
And from thence can soar as soon 
To the comers of the moon. 

Mortals, that would follow me, 
Love Virtue, she alone is free, 
She can teach ye how to climb 
Higher than the sphery chime : 
Or, if Virtue feeble were, 
Heav'n itself would stoop to her. 





1637. 

In this Monody the author bewails a learned friend, unfortu- 
nately drowned in his passage from Chester on the Irish seas, 1637 ; 
and by occasion foretells the ruin of the corrupted clergy, then in 
their height. 

YET once more, O ye laurels, and once more 
Ye myrtles brown, with ivy never sere, 
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude, 
And with forced fingers rude, 
Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 
Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, 
Compels me to disturb your season due : 
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime. 
Young Lycidas, and hath not left his peer : 
Who would not sing for Lycidas ? He knew 
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. 
He must not float upon his watery bier 
Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, 
Without the meed of some melodious tear. 





■^:: , ff^% 







PARADISE LOST. 



145 




* '- :4 



Her nightly visitation unimplored, 

And dictates to me slumb'ring, or inspires 

Easy my unpremeditated verse : 

Since first this subject for heroic song 

Pleased me, long choosing and beginning late ; 

Not sedulous by nature to indite 

Wars, hitherto the only argument 

Heroic deem'd, chief mast' ry to dissect 

With long and tedious havock fabled knights 

In battles feign'd ; the better fortitude 

Of patience and heroic martyrdom 

Unsung ; or to describe races and games, 

Or tilting furniture, emblazon'd shields. 

Impresses quaint, caparisons and steeds ; 

Bases and tinsel trappings, gorgeous knights 

At joust and tournament ; then marshall'd feast 

Served up in hall with sewers, and seneshals ; 

The skill of artifice or office mean, 

Not that which justly gives heroic name 

To person or to poem. Me of these 

Nor skill'd nor studious, higher argument 

Remains, sufficient of itself to raise 

That name, unless an age too late, or cold 

Climate, or years, damp my intended wing 

Depress'd, and much they may, if all be mine, 

Not hers who brings it nightly to my ear. 

The sun was sunk, and after him the star 
Of Hesperus, whose office is to bring 
Twilight upon the earth, short arbiter 
'Twixt day and night, and now from end to end 
Night's hemisphere had veil'd the horizon round : 
When Satan who late fled before the threats 
Of Gabriel out of Eden, now improved 
In meditated fraud and malice, bent 
On man's destruction, maugre what might hap 
Of heavier on himself, fearless return 'd. 
By night he fled, and at midnight return'd 
From compassing the earth, cautious of day, 
Since Uriel regent of the sun descried 
His entrance, and forewani'd the Cherubim 
That kept their watch ; thence full of anguish driv'n 
The space of seven continued nights he rode 
With darkness, thrice the equinoctial line 
He circled, four times cross'd the car of night 
From pole to pole, traversing each colure ; 
On the eighth return'd, and on the coast averse 
From entrance or Cherubic watch by stealth 
Found unsuspected way. There was a place. 
Now not, though sin, not time, first wrought the change. 
Where Tigris at the foot of paradise 



H? 



:S' 





146 



PARADISE LOST. 



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Into a giilf shot under ground, till part 
Rose up a fountain by the Tree of Life: 
In with the river sunk, and with it rose 
Satan involved in rising mist, then sought 
Where to lie hid : sea he had search'd, and land 
F^rom Eden over Pontus, and the pool 
Maeotis, up beyond the river Ob ; 
Downward as far Antarctic ; and in length 
AVest from Orontcs to the ocean barr'd 
At Darien ; thence to the land where flows 
Ganges and Indus : thus the orb he roam'd 
With narrow search ; and with inspection deep 
Consider'd every creature, which of all 
Most opportune might serve his wiles, and found 
The serpent subtlest beast of all the field. 
Him after long debate, irresolute 
Of thoughts revolved, his final sentence chose 
Fit vessel, fittest imp of fraud, in whom 
To enter, and his dark suggestions hide 
From sharpest sight : for in the wily snake 
Whatever sleights none would suspicious mark 
As from his wit and native subtlety 
Proceeding, which in other beasts observed 
Doubt might beget of diabolic pow'r 
Active within beyond the sense of brute. 
Thus he resolved, but first from inward grief 
His bursting passion into plaints thus pour'd. 

O earth, how like to heav'n, if not preferr'd 
More justly ; seat worthier of gods, as built 
With second thoughts, reforming what was old ! 
For what God after better worse would build? 
Terrestrial heav'n, danced round by other heav'ns 
That shine, yet bear their bright officious lamps, 
Ivight above light, for thee alone, as seems, 
In thee concentring all their precious beams 
Of sacred influence. As God in heav'n 
Is centre, yet extends to all, so thou 
Centring receiv'st from all those orbs : in thee. 
Not in themselves, all their known virtue appears 
Productive in herb, plant, and nobler birth 
Of creatures animate with gradual life 
Of growth, sense, reason, all summ'd up in man. 
With what delight could I have walk'd thee round, 
If I could joy in aught, sweet interchange 
Of hill and valley, rivers, woods, and plains. 
Now land, now sea, and shores with forest crown'd, 
Rocks, dens, and caves ! but I in none of these 
Find place or refuge ; and the more I see 
Pleasures about me, so much more I feel 
Torment within me, as from the hateful siege 









" O earth, how like to heaven, if not preferred 
More justly."— Book. IX., lines 99-100. 






^ 



PARADISE LOST. 

Of contraries ; all good to nie becomes 

Bane, and in lieav'n much worse would be my state. 

But neither here seek I, no nor in heav'n 

To dwell, unless by mast'ring heav'n's Supreme ; 

Nor hope to be mj'self less miserable 

By what I seek, but others to make such 

As I, though thereby worse to me redound : 

For only in destroying I find ease 

To my relentless thoughts ; and him destroy'd. 

Or won to what may work his utter loss, 

For whom all this was made, all this will soon 

Follow, as to him link'd in weal or woe ; 

In woe then ; that destruction wide may range. 

To me shall be the glory sole among 

The infernal powers, in one day to have marr'd 

What He, Almighty styled, six nights and days 

Continued making, and who knows how long 

Before had been contriving, though perhaps 

Not longer than since I in one night freed 

From servitude inglorious well nigh half 

Th' angelic name, and thinner left the throng 

Of His adorers. He to be avenged. 

And to repair His numbers thus impair'd, 

Whether such virtue spent of old now fail'd 

More angels to create, if they at least 

Are His created, or to spite us more. 

Determined to advance into our room 

A creature form'd of earth, and him endow. 

Exalted from so base original, 

With heav'nly spoils, our spoils : what he decreed 

He effected ; man he made, and for him built 

Magnificent this world, and earth his seat. 

Him lord pronounced, and, O indignity ! 

Subjected to his service angel wings, 

And flaming ministers, to w^atch and tend 

Their earthy charge. Of these the vigilance 

I dread, and to elude, thus wrapp'd in mist 

Of midnight vapour, glide obscure, and pry 

In every bush and brake, where hap may find 

The serpent sleeping, in whose mazy folds 

To hide me, and the dark intent I bring. 

O foul descent ! that I, who erst contended 

With Gods to sit the highest, am now constrained 

Into a beast, and mix'd with bestial slime, 

This essence to incarnate and imbrute, 

That to the highth of deity aspired ; 

But what will not ambition and revenge 

Descend to ? who aspires must down as low 

As high he soar'd, obnoxious first or last 

To barest things. Rexenge, at first though sweet, 



147 



/i 








t 




PARADISE LOST. 



Bitter ere long, back on itself recoils : 
Let it ; I reck not, so it light well aim'd. 
Since higher I fall short, on him who next 
Provokes my envy, this new favourite 
Of heav'n, this man of clay, son of despite, 
Whom us the more to spite his Maker raised 
From dust : spite then with spite is best repaid. 
So saying, through each thicket dank or dry. 
Like a black mist low creeping, he held on 
His midnight search, where soonest he might find 
The serpent : him fast sleeping soon he found. 
In labyrinth of many a round self-roll'd, 
His head the midst, well stored with subtle wiles : 
Not yet in horrid shade or dismal den. 
Nor nocent yet, but on the grassy herb, 
Fearless, unfear'd he slept. In at his mouth 
The devil enter' d, and his brutal sense, 
In heart or head, possessing soon inspired 
With act intelligential ; but his sleep 
Disturb'd not, waiting close th' approach of morn. 

Now, when as sacred light began to dawn 
In Eden on the humid fiow'rs, that breathed 
Their morning incense, when all things that breathe 
From th' earth's great altar send up silent praise 
To the Creator, and His nostrils fill 
With grateful smell, forth came the human pair. 
And join'd their vocal worship to the choir 
Of creatures wanting voice ; that done partake 
The season, prime for sweetest scents and airs : 
Then commune, how that day they best may ply 
Their growing work ; for much their work outgrew 
The hands' dispatch of two, gard'ning so wide. 
And Eve first to her husband thus began. 
Adam, well may we labour still to dress 
This garden, still to tend plant, herb, and flow'r. 
Our pleasant task enjoin'd; but till more hands 
Aid us, the work under our labour grows. 
Luxurious by restraint ; what we by day 
Lop overgrown, or prune, or prop, or bind, 
One night or two with wanton growth derides, 
Tending to wild. Thou therefore now advise. 
Or hear what to my mind first thoughts present ; 
Let us divide our labours, thou where choice 
Leads thee, or where most needs, whether to wind 
The woodbine round this arbour, or direct 
The clasping ivy where to climb, while I 
In yonder spring of roses intermix'd 
With myrtle find what to redress till noon : 
For while so near each other thus all day 
Our task we choose, what wonder if so near 












PARADISE LOST. 149 

Looks intervene and smiles, or object new 
Casual discourse draw on ; which intermits 
Our day's work, brought to little, though begun 
Barly, and the hour of supper comes uneam'd. 

To whom mild answer Adam thus return'd. 
Sole Eve, associate sole, to me beyond 
Compare above all living creatures dear, 
Well hast thou motion'd, well thy thoughts employ'd, 
How we might best fulfil the work which here 
God hath assign'd us, nor of me shall pass 
Unpraised ; for nothing lovelier can be found 
In woman, than to study household good, 
And good works in her husband to promote. 
Yet not so strictly hath our Lord imposed 
Labour, as to debar us when we need 
Refreshment, whether food, or talk between. 
Food of the mind, or this sweet intercourse 
Of looks and smiles ; for smiles from reason flow. 
To brute denied, and are of love the food, 
Love not the lowest end of human life. 
For not to irksome toil, but to delight. 
He made us, and delight to reason join'd. 
These paths and bowers doubt not but our joint hands 
Will keep from wilderness with ease, as wide 
As we need walk, till younger hands ere long 
Assist us : but if much converse perhaps 
Thee satiate, to short absence I could yield : 
For solitude sometimes is best society, 
And short retirement urges sweet return. 
But other doubt possesses me, lest harm 
Befall thee sever'd from me ; for thou know'st 
What hath been warn'd us, what malicious foe 
Envying our happiness, and of his own 
Despairing, seeks to work us woe and shame 
By sly assault ; and somewhere nigh at hand 
Watches, no doubt, with greedy hope to find 
His wish and best advantage, us asunder, 
Hopeless to circumvent us join'd, where each 
To other spee<ly aid might lend at need ; 
Whether his first design be to withdraw 
Ovu- fealty from God, or to disturb 
Conjugal love, than which perhaps no bliss 
Enjoy'd by lis excites his envy more ; 
Or this, or worse, leave not the faithful side 
That gave thee being, still shades thee and protects. 
The wife, where danger or dishonour lurks, 
vSafest and seemliest by her husband stays, 
Who guards her, or with her the worst endures. 

To whom the virgin majesty of Eve, 
As one who loves, and some unkindness meets. 








I50 



PARADISE LOST. 



"%$^ 





With sweet austere composure thus replied. 

Offspring of heav'n and earth, and all earth's lord, 
That such an enemy we have, who seeks 
Our ruin, both by thee inform'd I learn. 
And from the parting angel overheard, 
As in a shady nook I stood behind, 
Just then return 'd at shut of evening flow'rs. 
But that thou shouldst my firmness therefore doubt 
To God or thee, because we have a foe 
May tempt it, I expected not to hear. 
His violence thou fear'st not, being such. 
As we, not capable of death or pain, 
Can either not receive, or can repel. 
His fraud is then thy fear, which plain infers 
Thy equal fear, that my firm faith and love 
Can by his fraud be shaken or seduced : 
Thoughts, which how found they harbour in thv breast, 
Adam, misthought of her to thee so dear ? 

To whom with healing words Adam replied. 
Daughter of God and man, immortal Eve, 
For such thou art, from sin and blame entire : 
Not diffident of thee do I dissuade 
Thy absence from my sight, but to avoid 
Th' attempt itself, intended by our foe : 
For he who tempts, though in vain, at least asperses 
The tempted with dishonour foul, supposed 
Not incorruptible of faith, not proof 
Against temptation. Thou thyself wdth scorn 
And anger wouldst resent the offer' d wrong, 
Though ineffectual found : misdeem not then. 
If such affront I labour to avert 
From thee alone, which on us both at once 
The enemy, though bold, will hardly dare, 
Or daring, first on me th' assault shall light. 
Nor thou his malice and false guile contemn ; 
Subtle he needs must be, who could seduce 
Angels ; nor think superfluous others' aid. 
I from the influence of thy looks receive 
Access in every virtue, in th)' sight 
More wise, more watchful, stronger, if need were 
Of outward strength ; while shame, thou looking on, 
Shame to be overcome or over-reach'd. 
Would utmost vigovir raise, and raised unite. 
Why shouldst not thou like sense within thee feel 
When I am present, and thy trial choose 
With me, best witness of thy virtue tried ? 

So spake domestic Adam in his care 
And matrimonial love ; but Eve, who thought 
l/css attributed to her faith sincere. 
Thus her reply with accent sweet renew'd. 





PARADISE LOST. 



151 



\\ 



Wi^\ 



r 






D 



If this be our condition, thus to dwell 
In narrow circuit straiten'd by a foe, 
Subtle or violent, we not endued 
Single with like defence, wherever met, 
How are we happy, still in fear of harm ? 
But harm precedes not sin : only our foe 
Tempting aftronts us with his foul esteem 
Of our integrity : his foul esteem 
Sticks no dishonour on our front, but turns 
Foul on himself ; then wherefore shunn'd or fear'd 
By us ? who rather double honour gain 
From his surmise proved false, find peace within. 
Favour from heav'n, our witness, from th' event. 
And what is faith, love, virtue, unassay'd 
Alone, without exterior help sustain'd? 
Let us not then suspect our happy state 
Left so imperfect by the Maker wise, 
As not secure to single or combined. 
Frail is our happiness, if this be so, 
And Eden were no Eden thus exposed. 

To whom thus Adam fervently replied. 
O woman, best are all things as the will 
Of God ordain'd them ; His creating hand 
Nothing imperfect or deficient left 
Of all that He created, much less man, 
Or aught that might his happy state secure. 
Secure from outward force ; within himself 
The danger lies, yet lies within his power : 
Against his will he can receive no harm. 
But God left free the will, for what obeys 
Reason is free, and reason He made right ; 
But bid her well beware, and still erect, 
Lest by some fair appearing good surprized 
She dictate false, and misinform the will 
To do what God expressly hath forbid. 
Not then mistrust, but tender love enjoms, 
That I should mind thee oft, and mind thou me. 
Firm we subsist, yet possible to swerve, 
Since reason not impossibly may meet 
Some specious object by the foe suborn'd, 
And fall into deception unaware, 
Not keeping strictest watch, as she w-as warn'd. 
Seek not temptation then, which to avoid 
Were better, and most likely, if from me 
Thou sever not : trial will come unsought. 
Wouldst thou approve thy constancy, approve 
First thy obedience ; th' other who can know, 
Not seeing thee attempted, who attest? 
But if thou think trial unsought may find 
Us both securer than thus warn'd thou seem'st, 





^^^^fe'^^is! 




152 



PARADISE LOST. 




•i*> 



Go ; for thy stay, not free, absents tliee more ; 

Go in thy native innocence, rely 

On what thou hast of virtue, summon all, 

For God towards thee hath done His part, do thine. 

So spake the patriarch of mankind, but Eve 
Persisted, yet submiss, though last, replied. 

With thy permission then, and thus forewarn'd, 
Chiefly by what thy own last reasoning words 
Touch 'd only, that our trial, when least sought, 
May find us both perhaps far less prepared. 
The willinger I go, nor much expect 
A foe so proud will first the weaker seek ; 
So bent, the more shall shame him his repulse. 

Thus saying, from her husband's hand her hand 
Soft she withdrew ; and like a wood-nymph light, 
Oread or Dryad, or of Delia's train, 
Betook her to the groves, but Delia's self 
In gait surpass'd and goddess-like deport. 
Though not as she with bow and quiver arm'd, 
But with such gard'ning tools as art, yet rude, 
Guiltless of fire had form'd, or angels brought. 
To Pales, or Pomona, thus adorn'd, 
Likest she seem'd, Pomona when she fled 
Vertumnus, or to Ceres in her prime. 
Yet virgin of Proserpina from Jove. 
Her long with ardent look his eye pursued 
Delighted, but desiring more her stay : 
Oft he to her his charge of quick return 
Repeated, she to him as oft engaged 
To be return'd by noon amid the bow'r, 
And all things in best order to invite 
Noontide repast, or afternoon's repose. 
O much deceived, much failing, hapless Eve, 
Of thy presumed return ! event perverse ! 
Thou never from that hour in paradise 
P'ound'st either sweet repast, or sound repose ; 
Such ambush hid among sweet flov/'rs and shades 
Waited with hellish rancour imminent 
To intercept thy way, or send thee back 
Despoil'd of innocence, of faith, of bliss. 
For now, and since first break of dawn the fiend, 
Mere serpent in appearance, forth was come, 
And on his quest, where likeliest he might find 
The only two of mankind, but in them 
The whole included race, his purposed prey. 
In bow'r and field he sought, where any tuft 
Of grove or garden-plot more pleasant lay. 
Their tendance or plantation for delight, 
B)^ fountain or by shady rivulet 
lie sought them both, but wish'd his hap might find 








V 





'J> 





PARADISE LOST. 

Eve separate ; he wish'd, but not with hope 

Of what so seldom chanced, when to his wish, 

Beyond his hope, Eve separate he spies, 

Veil'd in a cloud of fragrance, where she stood, 

Half spied, so thick the roses bushing round 

About her glow'd, oft stooping to support 

Each flow'r of slender stalk, whose head though gay 

Carnation, purple, azure, or speck'd with gold, 

Hung drooping unsustain"d ; them she upstays 

Gently with myrtle baud, mindless the while. 

Herself, though fairest unsupported fiow'r. 

From her best prop so far, and storm so nigh. 

Nearer he drew, and many a walk traversed 

Of stateliest covert, cedar, pine, or palm. 

Then voluble and bold, now hid, now seen 

Among thick-woven arborets and flow'rs 

Imborder'd on each bank, the hand of Eve : 

Spot more delicious than those gardens feign' d 

Or of revived Adonis, or renown'd 

Alcinous, host of old Laertes' son, 

Or that not mystic, where the Sapient king 

Held dalliance with his fair Egyptian spouse. 

Much he the place admired, the person more. 

As one who long in populous city pent 

Where bouses thick and sewers annoy the air, 

Forth issuing on a summer's morn to breathe 

Among the pleasant villages and farms 

Adjoin'd, from each thing met conceives delight, 

The smell of grain, or tedded grass, or kine. 

Or dairy, each rural sight, each rural sound ; 

If chance with nvmph-like step fair virgin pass, 

What pleasing seem'd, for her now pleases more, 

She most, and in her look sums all delight • 

Such pleasure took the serpent to behold 

This flow'ry plat, the sweet recess of Eve 

Thus early, thus alone : her heav'nly form 

Angelic, but more soft and feminine. 

Her graceful innocence, her every air 

Of gesture or least action, over-awed 

His malice, and with rapine sweet bereaved 

His fierceness of the fierce intent it brought. 

That space the evil one abstracted stood 

From his own evil, and for the time remam'd 

Stupidly good, of enmity disarm'd, 

Of guile, of hate, of envy, of revenge ; 

But the hot hell that always in him burns, 

Though in mid heav'n, soon ended his delight, 

And tortures him now more, the more he sees 

Of pleasure not for him ordain'd : then soon 

Fierce hate he recollects, and all his thougats 



153 



#1, 





154 



PARADISE LOST. 





Of mischief, gratulating, thus excites. 

Thoughts, whither have ye led me, with what sweet 
Compulsion thus transported to forget 
What hither brought us, hate, not love, nor \\o^& 
Of paradise for hell, hope here to taste 
Of pleasure, but all pleasure to destroy, 
Save what is in destroying : other joy 
To me is lost. Then let me not let pass 
Occasion which now smiles ; behold alone 
The woman opportune to all attempts, 
Her husband, for I view far round, not nigh, 
Whose higher intellectual more I shun, 
And strength, of courage haughty, and of limb 
Heroic built, though of terrestrial mould ; 
F'oe not informidable, exempt from wound, 
I not : so niuch hath hell debased, and pain 
Infeebled me, to what I was in heav'n. 
vShe fair, divinely fair, fit love for gods, 
Not terrible, though terror be in love. 
And beauty, not approach'd by stronger hate. 
Hate stronger under show of love well feign'd ; 
The way which to her ruin now I tend. 

So spake the enemy of mankind, enclosed 
In serpent, inmate bad, and toward Eve 
Address'd his way, not with indented wave, 
Prone on the ground, as since, but on his rear, 
Circular base of rising folds, that tower'd 
Fold above fold a surging maze, his head 
Crested aloft, and carbuncle his eyes ; 
With burnish' d neck of verdant gold, erect 
Amidst his circling spires, that on the grass 
Floated redundant : pleasing was his shape. 
And lovel}', never since of serpent kind 
Lovelier, not those that in Illyria changed 
Hermione and Cadmus, or the God 
In Epidaurus ; nor to which transform'd 
Ammonian Jove or Capitoline was seen, 
He with Olympias, this with her who bore 
vScipio the highth of Rome. With tract oblique 
At first, as one who sought access, but fear'd 
To interrupt, side-long he works his way. 
As when a ship by skilful steersman wrought 
Nigh river's mouth or foreland, where the wind 
Veers oft, as oft so steers, and shifts her sail. 
So varied he, and of his tortuous train 
Curl'd many a wanton wreath in sight of Eve, 
To lure her eye ; she, busied, heard the sound 
Of rustling leaves, but minded not, as used 
To such disport before ner through the field. 
From every beast, more duteous at her call. 





PARADISE LOST. 



155 




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Than at Circean call the herd disguised. 

He bolder now uncall'd before her stood ; 

But as in gaze admiring : oft he bow'd 

His turret crest, and sleek enamell'd neck, 

Fawning, and lick'd the ground whereon she trod. 

His gentle dumb expression turn'd at length 

The ej^e of Eve to mark his play ; he glad 

Of her attention gain'd, with serpent tongue 

Organic, or impulse of vocal air, 

His fraudulent temptation thus began. 

Wonder not, sov'reign mistress, if perhaps 
Thou canst, who art sole wonder, much less arm 
Thy looks, the heav'n of mildness, with disdain, 
Displeased that I approach thee thus, and gaze 
Insatiate, I thus single, nor have fear'd 
Thy awful brow, more awful thus retired. 
Fairest resemblance of thy Maker fair. 
Thee all things living gaze on, all things thine ~ 
B3' gift, and thy celestial beauty adore 
With ravishment beheld, there best beheld 
Where universally admireti : but here 
In this enclosure wild, these beasts among, 
Beholders rude, aiid shallow to discern 
Half what in thee is fair, one man except. 
Who sees thee? and what is one? who should be seen 
A Goddess among Gods, adored and served 
By angels numberless, thy daily train. 

So glozed the tempter, and his proem tuned ; 
Into the heart of Eve his words made way. 
Though at the voice much marvelling : at length 
Not unamazed she thus in answer spake. 
What may this mean ? Language of man pronounced 
By tongue of brute, and human sense express'd ? 
The iirst at least of these I thought denied 
To beasts, w^hom God on their creation-day 
Created mute to all articulate sound ; 
The latter I demur, for in tiieir looks 
Much reason, and in their actions, oft appears. 
Thee, serpent, subtlest beast of all the field 
I knew, but not with human voice endued : 
Redouble then this miracle, and say, 
How cam'st thou speakable of mute, and how 
To me so friendly grown above the rest 
Of brutal kind, that daily are in sight ? 
Say, for such wonder claims attention due. 

To whom the guileful tempter thus replied 
Empress of this fair world, resplendent Eve, 
Easy to me it is to tell thee all 

What thou command'st, andrightthou shouldst be obey'd. 
I was at first as other beasts that graze 




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156 



PARADISE LOST. 



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The trodden herb, of abject thoughts and low, 

As was my food, nor aught but food discern' d 

Or sex, and apprehended nothing high : 

Till on a day roving the field, I chanced 

A goodly tree far distant to behold 

Ivoadeu with fruit of fairest colours mixt, 

Ruddy and gold : I nearer drew to gaze ; 

When from the boughs a savoury odour blown, 

Grateful to appetite, more pleased my sense 

Than smell of sweetest fennel, or the teats 

Of ewe or goat dropping with milk at ev'n, 

Unsuck'd of lamb or kid, that tend their play. 

To satisfy the sharp desire I had 

Of tasting those fair apples, I resolved 

Not to defer ; hunger and thirst at once, 

Powerful persuaders, quicken'd at the scent 

Of that alluring fruit, urged me so keen. 

About the mossy trunk I wound me soon. 

For high from ground the branches would require 

Thy utmost reach or Adam's : round the tree 

All other beasts that saw with like desire. 

Longing and envying, stood, but could not reach. 

Amid the tree now got, where plenty hung 

Tempting so nigh, to pluck and eat my fill 

I spared not, for such pleasure till that hour 

At feed or fountain never had I found. 

Sated at length, ere long I might perceive 

Strange alteration in me, to degree 

Of reason in my inward powers, and speech 

Wanted not long, though to this shape retain'd. 

Thenceforth to speculations high or dee^D 

I turn'd my thoughts, and with capacious mind 

Consider'd all things visible in heav'n, 

Or earth, or middle, all things fair and good ; 

But all that fair and good in thy divine 

Semblance and in thy beauty's heav'nlj' ra)' 

United I beheld ; no fair to thine 

Equivalent or second, which compell'd 

Me thus, though importune perhaps, to come 

And gaze, and worship thee of right declared 

Sov' reign of creatures, universal dame. 

So talk'd the spirited sly snake ; and Eve 
Yet more amazed unwary thus replied. 

Serpent, thy overpraising leaves in doubt 
The virtue of that fruit, in thee first proved : 
But say, where grows the tree ? from hence how far? 
For many are the trees of God that grow 
In paradise, and various, yet vmknown 
To us, in such abundance lies our choice, 
As leaves a greater store of fruit untouch';!. 



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PARADISE LOST, 



157 






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Still hanging incorruptible, till men 

Grow up to their provision and more hands 

Help to disburden nature of her birth. 

To whom the wily adder, blithe and glad. 
Empress, the way is ready, and not long, 
Beyond a row of myrtles, on a flat 
Fast by a fountain, one small thicket past 
Of blowing myrrh and balm : if thou accept 
Mv conduct, 1 can bring thee hither soon 

Lead then, said Eve. He leadmg swiftly roll d 
In tangles, and made intricate seem straight, 
To mischief swift: hope elevates, and joy 
Brightens his crest : as when a wand ring fire 
Compact of unctuous vapour, which the night 
Condenses, and the cold environs round, 
Kindled through agitation to a flame, 
Which oft, they say, some evil spirit attends, 
Hovering and blazing with delusive light. 
Misleads th' amazed night-wanderer from his way 
To bogs and mires, and oft through pond or pool. 
There swallow' d up and lost, from succour far : 
So glister'd the dire snake, and into fraud 
Led Eve our credulous mother, tt) the ti-ee 
Of prohibition, root of all our woe : 
Which when she saw, thus to her guide she spake. 

Serpent, we might have spared our coming hither 
Fruitless to me, though fruit be here to excess. 
The credit of whose virtue rest with thee ; 
Wond'rous indeed, if cause of such efi^, cts 
But of this tree we may not taste nor touch, 
God so commanded ; and left that command 
Sole daughter of his voice ; the rest we live 
Law to ourselves, our reason is our la\v. 

To whom the tempter guilefully replied. 
Indeed ! hath God then said that of the fruit 
Of all these garden trees ye shall not eat, 
Yet lords declared of all in earth or air ^ 

To whom thus Eve yet sinless. Of the fruit 
Of each tree in the garden we may eat. 
But of the fruit of this fair tree aniinst 
The garden, God hath said, ye shail not eat 
Thereof nor shall ye touch it, lest ye die. 

Sie scarce had said, though brief, when now more bold 
The tempter, but with show of zeal and love 
To man, and indignation at his wrong, 
New part puts on, and, as to passion moved. 
Fluctuates disturb'd, yet comely, and in art 
Raised, as of some great matter to begin. 
\s when of old some orator renown d 
In \thens or free Rome, where eloquence 



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158 



PARADISE LOST. 



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Flourisli'd, since mute, to some great cause address'd, 

Stood in himself collected, while each part, 

Motion, each act won audience ere the tongue ; 

Sometimes in highth began, as no delay 

Of preface brooking through his zeal of right : 

So standing, moving, or to highth upgrown. 

The tempter all impassion d thus began. 

O sacred, wise, and wisdom-giving plant, 
Mother of science, now I feel thy power 
Within me clear, not only to discern 
Things in their causes, but to trace the ways 
Of highest agents, deeni'd however wise. 
Queen of this universe ! do not believe 
Those rigid threats of death ; ye shall not die : 
How should ye ? by the fruit ? it gives you life 
To knowledge : by the threatener? look on me, 
Me who have touch'd and tasted, yet both live, 
And life more perfect have attain'd than fate 
Meant me, by vent'ring higher than my lot. 
Shall that be shut to man, which to the beast 
Is open ? or will God incense His ire 
For such a petty trespass, and not praise 
Rather j-oui dauntless virtue, whom the pain 
Of death denounced, whatever thing death be, 
Deterr'd not from achieving what might lead 
To happier life, knowledge of good and evil ? 
Of good, how just? of evil, if what is evil 
Be real, why not known, since easier shunn'd? 
God therefore cannot hurt ye, and be just ; 
Not just, not God ; not fear'd then, nor obey'd : 
Your fear itself of death removes the fear. 
Why then was this forbid ? Wh^^ but to awe, 
Why but to keep ye low and ignorant. 
His worshippers ; he knows that in the day 
Ye eat thereof, your eyes that seem so clear, 
Yet are but dim, shall perfectly be then 
Open'd and clear'd, and ye shall be as Gods, 
Knowing both good and evil as they know. 
That ye should be as Gods, since I as man. 
Internal man, is but proportion meet, 
I of brute, human, ye of human, Gods. 
So shall ye die perhaps, by putting off 
Human, to put on Gods : death to be wish'd. 
Though threaten'd, which no worse than this can bring 
And A\hat are Gods that man may not become 
As the\ , participating godlike food ? 
The (lods are first, and that advantage use 
On our belief, that all from them proceeds ; 
I cjutstion it, for this fair earth I see, 
Warm'd by the sun, producing every kind, 



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11 A^ 






PARADISE LOST, 

Them nothing : if they all things, who enclosed 
Knowledge of good and evil in this tree, 
That whoso eats thereof forthwith attains 
Wisdom without their leave ? and wherein lies 
Th' offence, that man should thus attain to know ? 
What can your knowledge hurt him, or this tree 
Impart against his will if all be his ? 
Or is it envy ; and can envy dwell 
In heav'nly breasts ? These, these and many more 
Causes import your need of this fair fruit. 
Goddess humane, reach then, and freely taste. 
He ended, and his words replete with guile 
Into her heart too easy entrance won : 
Fix d on the fruit she gazed, which to behold 
Might tempt alone, and in her ears the sound 
Yet rung of his persuasive words, impregn'd 
With reason, to her seeming, and with truth : 
Meanwhile the hour of noon drew on, and waked 
An eager appetite, raised by the smell 
So savoury of that fruit, which with desire 
Inclinable now grown to touch or taste, 
Solicited her longing eye ; yet first 
Pausing a while, thus to herself she mused. 

Great are thy virtues, doubtless, best of fruits. 
Though kept from man, and worthy to be admired. 
Whose taste, too long forborne, at first assay 
Gave elocution to the mute, and taught 
The tongue not made for speech to speak thy praise : 
Thy praise He also who forbids thy use 
Conceals not from us, naming thee the Tree 
Of Knowledge, knowledge both of good aud &xi\ ; 
Forbids us then to taste, but His forbidding 
Commends thee more, while it infers the good 
By thee coninmnicated, and our want : 
For good unknown sure is not had, or had 
And yet unknown is as not had at all. 
In plain then, what forbids He but to know, 
Forbids us good, forbids us to be wise ? 
Such prohibitions bind not. But if death 
Bind us with after-bands, what profits then 
Our inward freedom ? In the day v/e eat 
Of this fair fruit, our doom is, we shall die. 
How dies the serpent? he hath eaten and lives, 
And knows, and speaks, and reasons, and discerns. 
Irrational till then. For us alone 
Was death invented? or to us denied 
This intellectual food, for beasts reserved ? 
For beasts it seems : yet that one beast which first 
Hath tasted envies not, but brings with joy 
The good befill'n him, author unsuspect. 



159 




I i 






i6o 



PARADISE LOST. 



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Friendly to man, far from deceit or guile. 

What fear I then, rather what know to fear 

Under this ignorance of good and evil, 

Of God or death, of law or penalty ? 

Here grows the cure of all, this fruit divine, 

Fair to the eye, inviting to the taste. 

Of virtue to make wise : what hinders then 

To reach, and feed at once both body and mind ? 

So saying, her rash hand in evil hour 
Forth reaching to the fruit, she pluck'd, she eat : 
Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat 
Sighing through all her works gave signs of woe, 
That ail was lost. Back to the thicket slunk 
The guilty serpent, and well might, for Eve 
Intent now wholly on her taste, naught else 
Regarded, such delight till then, as seem'd, 
In fruit she never tasted, whether true 
Or fancied so, through expectation high 
Of knowledge ; nor was Godhead from her thought. 
Greedily she ingorged without restraint, 
And knew not eating death : satiate at length. 
And highten'd as with wine, jocund and boon. 
Thus to herself she pleasingly began. 

O sov'reign, virtuous, precious of all trees 
In Paradise, of operation blest 
To sapience, hitherto obscured, infamed, 
And thy fair fruit let hang, as to no end 
Created : but henceforth my early care, 
Not without song, each morning, and due praise 
Shall tend thee, and the fertile burden ease 
Of thy full branches offer' d free to all ; 
Till dieted by thee I grow mature 
In knowledge, as the Gods who all things know ; 
Though others envy what they cannot give ; 
For had the gift been theirs it had not here 
Thus grown. Experience, next to thee I owe, 
Best guide ; not following thee I had remain'd 
In ignorance ; thou open'st wisdom's way, 
And giv'st access, though secret she retire. 
And I perhaps am secret : heav'u is high. 
High and remote to see from thence distinct 
Each thing on earth ; and other care perhaps 
May have diverted from continual watch 
Our great Forbidder, safe with all his spies 
About him. But to Adam in what sort 
Shall I appear ? shall I to him make known 
As yet my change, and give him to partake 
Full happiness with me, or rather not, 
But keep the odds of knowlege in my power 
Without co-partner ? so to add what wants 



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PARADISE LOST. 



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In female sex, the more to draw his love, 

And render me more equal, and perhaps, 

A thing not undesirable^ sometime 

Superior ; for inferior who is free ? 

This may be Vv^eil : but what if God have seen, 

And death ensue ? then I shall be no more, 

And Adam wedded to another Eve 

Shall live with her enjo3'ing, I extinct : 

A death to think. Confirm'd then I resolve, 

Adam shall share with me in bliss or woe : 

So dear I love him, that with him all deaths 

I could endure ; without him live no life. 

So saying, from the tree her step she turn'd, 
But first low reverence done, as to the power 
That dwelt within, whose presence had infused 
Into the plant sciential sap, derived 
From nectar, drink of Gods. Adam the while. 
Waiting desiroiis her return, had wove 
Of choicest flow'rs a garland to adorn 
Her tresses, and her rural labours crown, 
As reapers oft are wont their harvest queen. 
Great joy he promised to his thoughts, and new 
Solace in her return, so long delay'd; 
Yet oft his heart, divine of something ill. 
Misgave him , he the fait' ring measure felt ; 
And forth to meet her went, the way she took 
That morn when first they parted. By the Tree 
Of Knowledge he must pass, there he her met, 
Scarce from the tree returning ; in her hand 
A bough of fairest fruit that downy smiled, 
New gather" d, and ambrosial smell diffused. 
To him she hasted, in her face excuse 
Came prologue, and apology too prompt, 
Which with bland words at will she thus address'd. 

Hast thou not wonder' d, Adam, at my sta)'^? 
Thee I have miss'd, and thought it long, deprived 
Thy presence, agony of love till now 
Not felt, nor shall be twice, for never more 
Mean I to try, what rash untried I sought, 
The pain of absence from thy sight. But strange 
Hath been the cause, and wonderful to hear : 
This tree is not, as we are told, a tree 
Of danger tasted, nor to evil unknown 
Op'ning the way, but of divine effect 
To open eyes, and make them Gods who taste : 
And hath been tasted such. The serpent wise. 
Or not restrain'd as we, or not obeying. 
Hath eaten of the fruit, and is become 
Not dead, as we are threaten'd, but thenceforth 
Endued with human voice and human sense, 





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l62 



PARADISE LOST. 




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Reasoning to admiration, and with me 

Persuasively hath so prevail'd, that I 

Have also tasted, and have also found 

Th' effects to correspond ; opener mine eyes, 

Dim erst, dilated spirits, ampler heart, 

And growing tip to Godhead ; which for thee 

Chiefly I sought, without thee can despise. 

For bliss, as thou hast part, to me is bliss. 

Tedious, unshared with thee, and odious soon. 

Thou therefore also taste, that equal lot 

May join us, equal joy, as equal love; 

Lest thou not tasting, different degree 

Disjoin lis, and I then too late renounce 

Deity for thee, when fate will not permit. 

Thus Eve, with countenance blithe, her story told, 
But in her cheek distemper flushing glow'd. 
On th' other side, Adam, soon as he heard 
The fatal trespass done by Eve, amazed, 
Astonied stood and blank, while horror chill 
Ran through his veins, and all his joints relax'd ; 
From his slack hand the garland wreath' d for Eve 
Down dropp'd, and all the faded roses shed : 
Speechless he stood and pale, till thus at length 
First to himself he inward silence broke. 

O fairest of creation, last and best 
Of all God's works, creature in whom excell'd 
Whatever can to sight or thought be form'd, 
Holy, divine, good, amiable or sweet ! 
How art thou lost, how on a sudden lost. 
Defaced, deflower'd, and now to death devote! 
Rather how hast thou yielded to transgress 
The strict forbiddance, how to violate 
The sacred fruit forbidden ! some cursed fraud 
Of enemy hath beguiled thee, yet unknown, 
And me with thee hath ruin'd, for with thee 
Certain my resoltation is to die : 
How can I live without thee ? how forego 
Thy sweet converse and love so dearly join'd, 
To live again in these wild woods forlorn ? 
Should God create another Eve, and I 
Another rib afford, yet loss of thee 
Would never from my heart ; no, no, I feel 
The link of nature draw me ; flesh of flesh. 
Bone of my bone thou art, and from thy state 
Mine never shall be parted, bliss or woe. 

So having said, as one from sad dismay, 
Recomforted, and after thoughts disturb'd 
Submitting to what seem'd remediless, 
Thus in calm mood his words to Eve he turn'd. 

Bold deed thou hast presumed, advent' rous Eve, 



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PARADISE LOST. 



163 




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And peril great provoked, who thus hast dared, 

Had it been only coveting to eye 

That sacred fruit, sacred to abstinence, 

Much more to taste it under ban to touch. 

But past who can recall, or done undo? 

Not God omnipotent, nor Fate, 5'et so 

Perhaps thou shalt not die, perhaps the fact 

Is not so heinous now, foretasted fruit. 

Profaned first by the serpent, by him first 

Made common and unhallow'd ere our taste ; 

Nor yet on him found deadly, he yet lives, 

Lives, as thou said'st, and gains to live as man 

Higher degree of life, inducement strong 

To us, as likely tasting to attain 

Proportional ascent, which cannot be 

But to be Gods, or angels demigods. 

Nor can I think that God, Creator wise. 

Though threat' ning, will in earnest so destroy 

Us His prime creatures, dignified so high, 

Set over all His works, which in our fall, 

For us created, needs with us must fail, 

Dependent made ; so God shall uncreate. 

Be frustrate, do, vindo, and labour lose. 

Not well conceived of God ; who, though His power 

Creation could repeat, yet would be loth 

Us to abolish, lest the adversary 

Triumph and say : Fickle their state whom God 

Most favours, who can please Him long ? Me first 

He ruin'd, now mankind ; whom will he next? 

Matter of scorn, not to be given the foe. 

However, I with thee have fix'd my lot, 

Certain to undergo like doom ; if death 

Consort with thee, death is to me as life ; 

So forcible vnthin my heart I feel 

The bond of nature draw me to my own. 

My own in thee, for what thou art is mine , 

Our state cannot be sever'd, we are one. 

One flesh ; to lose thee were to lose myself. 

So Adam, and thus Eve to him replied. 
O glorious trial of exceeding love. 
Illustrious evidence, example high, 
Engaging me to emulate, but, short 
Of thy perfection, how shall I attain, 
Adam, from whose dear side I boast me sprung, 
And gladly of our union hear thee speak, 
One heart, one soul in both ; whereof good proof 
This day affords, declaring thee resolved, 
Rather than death or aught than death more dread 
Shall separate us link'd in love so dear, 
To undergo with me one guilt, one crime, 



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164 



PARADISE LOST. 



If any be, of tasting this fair fruit, 

Whose virtue, for of good still good proceeds 

Direct, or by occasion, hath presented 

This happy trial of thy love, which else 

So eminently never had been known. 

Were it^I thought death menaced would ensue 

This my attempt, I would sustain alone 

The worst, and not persuade thee, rather die 

Deserted, than oblige thee with a fact 

Pernicious to thy peace, chiefly assured 

Remarkably so late of thy so true, 

So faithful love unequall'd ; but I feel 

Far otherwise the event, not death but life 

Augmented, open'd eyes, new hopes, new joys, 

Taste so divine, that what of sweet before 

Hath touch' d my sense, flat seems to this and harsh. 

On my experience, Adam, freely taste, 

And fear of death deliver to the winds. 

So saying, she embraced him, and for joy 
Tenderly wept, much won that he his love 
Had so ennobled, as of choice to incur 
Divine displeasure for her sake, or death. 
In recompense, for such compliance bad 
Such recompense best merits, from the bough 
She gave him of that fair, enticing fruit 
With liberal hand ; he scrupled not to eat 
Against his better knowledge, not deceived, 
But fondly overcome with female charm. 
Earth trembled from her entrails, as again 
In pangs, and Nature gave a second groan. 
Sky lour'd, and, mutt'ring thunder, some sad drops 
Wept at completing of the mortal sin 
Original ; while Adam took no thought. 
Eating his fill, nor Eve to iterate 
Her former trespass fear'd, the more to soothe 
Him with her loved society, that now, 
As with new wine intoxicated both. 
They swim in mirth, and fancy that they feel 
Divinity within them breeding wings 
Wherewith to scorn the earth ; but that false fruit ' 
Far other operation first display'd. 
Carnal desire inflaming ; he on Eve 
Began to cast lascivious eyes, she him 
As wantonly repaid ; in lust they burn ; 
Till Adam thus 'gan Eve to dalliance move. 

Eve, now I see thou art exact of taste. 
And elegant, of sapience no small part. 
Since to each meaning savour we apply, ■ 
And palate call judicious ; I the praise 
Yield thee, so well this day thou hast purvey 'd, 



r 







PARADISE LOST. 



165 



A': it 



'■.•■\i> 










Much pleasure we have lost, while we abstaiu'd 
From this delightful fruit, nor known till now 
True relish, tasting ; if such pleasure be 
In things to us forbidden, it might be wish'd, 
For this one tree had been forbidden ten. 
But come, so well refresh'd, now let us play. 
As meet is, after such delicious fare ; 
For never did thy beauty, since the day 
I saw thee first and wedded thee, adorned 
With all perfections, so inflame my sense 
With ardour to enjoy thee, fairer now 
Than ever, bounty of this virtuous tree. 

So said he, and forebore not glance or toy 
Of amorous intent, well understood 
Of Eve, whose eye darted contagious fire. 
Her hand he seized, and to a shj^dy bank, 
Thick overhead with verdant roof imbower'd. 
He led her nothing loth ; flowers were the couch, 
Pansies, and violets, and asphodel. 
And hyacinth, earth's freshest softest lap. 
There they their fill of love and love's disport 
Took largely, of their mutual guilt.the seal, 
The solace of their sin, till dewy sleep 
Oppress'd them, wearied with their amorous play. 
Soon as the force of that fallacious fruit, 
That with exhilarating vapour bland 
About their spirits had play'd, and inmost powers 
Made err, was now exhaled, and grosser sleep 
Bred of unkindly fumes, with conscious dreams 
Encumber'd, now had left them, up they rose 
As from unrest, and, each the other viewing. 
Soon found their eyes how open'd, and their minds 
How darken' d : innocence, that as a veil 
Had shadow'd them from knowing ill, was gone, 
Just confidence, and native righteousness. 
And honour from about them ; naked left 
To guilty shame ; he cover'd, but his robe 
Uncover'd more. So rose the Danite strong, 
Herculean Samson, from the harlot-lap 
Of Philistean Dalilah, and waked 
Shorn of his strength ; they destitute and bare 
Of all their virtue : silent, and in face 
Confounded, long thy sate as strucken mute. 
Till Adam, though not less than Eve abash'd, 
At length gave utterance to these words constrain'd. 

O Eve, in evil hour thou didst give ear 
To that false worm, of whomsoever taught 
To counterfeit mauls voice, true in our fall 
False in our promised rising ; since our eyes 
Open'd we find indeed, and find we know 







1 66 



PARADISE LOST. 



"t0' 






Both good and evil, good lost, and ev-il got, 

Bad fruit of knowledge, if this be to know, 

Which leaves us naked thus, of honour void, 

Of innocence, of faith, of purity. 

Our wonted ornaments now soil'd and stain'd. 

And in our faces evident the signs 

Of foul concupiscence ; whence evil store, 

Ev'n shame, the last of e\als ; of the first 

Be sure then. How shall I behold the face 

Henceforth of God or angel, erst with joy 

And rapture so oft beheld ? those heav'nly shapes 

Will dazzle now this earthly, with their blaze 

Insufferably bright. O might I here 

In solitude live savage, in some glade 

Obscured, where highest woods, impenetrable 

To star or sun-light, spread their umbrage broad, 

And brown as evening : cover me, ye pines, 

Ye cedars, with innumerable boughs 

Hide me, where I may never see them more. 

But let us now, as in bad plight, devise 

What best may for the present serve to hide 

The parts of each from other, that seem most 

To shame obnoxious, and unseemliest seen ; 

Some tree, whose broad smooth leaves together sew'd, 

And girded on our loins, may cover round 

Those middle parts, that this new comer, shame. 

There sit not, and reproach us as unclean. 

So counsell'd he, and both together went 
Into the thickest wood ; there soon they chose 
The fig tree, not that kind for fruit renown'd, 
But such as at this day to Indians known 
In Malabar or Decan spreads her arms 
Branching so broad and long, that in the ground 
The bended twigs take root, and daughters grow 
About the mother tree, a pillar'd shade 
High overarch'd, and echoing walks between ; 
There oft the Indian herdsman shunning heat 
Shelters in cool, and tends his pasturing herds 
At loopholes cut thro' thickest shade. Those leaves 
They gather'd, broad as Amazonian targe, 
And with what skill they had together sew'd, 
To gird their waist, vain covering, if to hide 
Their guilt and dreaded shame ; O how unlike 
To that first naked glory ! Such of late 
Columbus found th' American so girt 
With feather' d cinctiire, naked else and wild 
Among the trees on isles and woody shores. 
Thus fenced, and as they thought, their shame in part 
Cover'd, but not at rest or ease of mind. 
They sat them down to weep, nor only tears 







PARADISE LOST. 



167 




■•:"^ 



Raiii'd at their eyes, but high ^v^nds worse within 
Began to rise, high passions, anger, hate, 
^Mistrust, suspicion, discord, and shook sore 
Their inward state of mind, calm region once 
And full of peace, now toss'd and turbulent : 
For understanding ruled not, and the will 
Heard not her lore, both in subjection now 
To sensual appetite, who from beneath 
Usurping over sov' reign reason claim' d 
Superior sway : from thus distemper' d breast 
Adam, estranged in look and alter'd style, 
Speech intermitted thus to Eve renew'd. 

Would thou hadst hearken' d to my words, and stay d 
With me, as I besought thee, when that strange 
Desire of wand'ring this unhappy morn 
I know not whence possess'd thee ; we had then 
Remain'd still happy, not, as now, despoil'd 
Of all our good, shamed, naked, miserable. 
Let none henceforth seek needless cause to approve 
The faith they owe ; when earnestly they seek 
Such proof, conclude, they then begin to fail. 

To whom soon moved wnth touch of blame thus l^ve. 
What words have pass'd thy lips, Adam severe, 
Imput'st thou that to my default, or will 
Of wand'ring, as thou call'st it, which who knows 
But might as ill have happen'd thou being by. 
Or to thyself perhaps : hadst thou been there. 
Or here th' attempt, thou couldst not have discern d 
Fraud in the seqient, speaking as he spake ; 
No ground of enmity between us known, 
Why he should mean me ill, or seek to harm. 
Was I to have never parted from thy side ? 
As good have grown there still a lifeless nb. 
Being as I am, why didst not thou, the head, 
Command me absolutely not to go. 
Going into such danger, as thou said'st ? 
Too facile, then thou didst not much gainsay, 
Nav, didst permit, approve, and fair dismiss. 
Hadst thou been firm and fix'd in thy dissent, 
Neither had I transgress'd, nor thou with me. 
To whom then first incensed Adam replied. 
Is this the love, is this the recompense 
Of mine to thee, ungrateful Eve, express'd 
Immutable when thou wert lost, not I, 
Who might have lived and joy'd immortal bliss, 
Yet willingly chose rather death with thee ? 
And am I now upbraided, as the cause 
Of thv transgressing? not enough severe. 
It seems, in thy restraint : what could I more ? 
I warn'd thee, I admonish'd thee, foretold 





i6S 



PARADISE LOST. 



II The danger, and the lurking enemy 

if , , ^ That lay in wait : beyond this had been force, 
li'i \V And force upon free will hath here no place. 

! \ But confidence then bore thee on, secure 

I t Either to meet no danger, or to find 

' Matter of glorious trial ; and perhaps 

I also err'd in overmuch admiring 
What seem'd in thee so perfect, that I thought 
No evil durst attempt thee ; but I rue 
The error now, which is become my crime, 
And thou th' accuser. Thus it shall befall 
Him who to worth in women overtrusting 
Lets her will rule ; restraint she will not brook, 
And left to herself, if evil thence ensue, 
She first his weak indulgence will accuse. 

Thus they in mutual accusation spent 
The fruitless hours, but neither self-condemning. 
And of their vain contest appear'd no end. 







at '^ 






PARADISE LOST. 



169 





BOOK X. 



The Argument. 



Man's transgression known, the guardian angels forsake paradise, 
a..d return up to heaven to approve their vigilance, and are approved, 
God decladnl that the entrance of Satan could not be by them pre- 
vented He sinds his Son to judge the transgressors ; who descends 
anSes sentence accordingly ; then in pity clothes them both and 
reasSnds Sin and Death, fitting till then at the ga es of hell, by 
wondrous sympathy feeling the success of Satan m this new world, 
and the sifb7man there committed, resolve to sit no longer con 
fined in hell but to follow Satan their sire up to the place of man : 
to make the way easier from hell to this world to and ^o, they pave 
abroad hi-hway, or bridge, over Chaos, according to the track that 
latan first made; then, preparing for earth, they meet him, proud 
of his success, returning to hell: their mutual gra illation batan 
arrives at pindemonium, in full assembly relates with boasting his 
success against man : instead of applause is entertained with a 
leneral hiss bv all his audience, transformed, with himself also sud- 
ienlv into serpents, according to his doom given in Paradise ; then, 
deluded with a show of the forbidden tree springing up before them, 
fhev treedilv reaching to take of the fruit, chew dust and bitter 
LshL^ T^e pioceedinis of Sin and Death ; God foretells the tina 
victoryof his Son ove? them, and the renewing of all things ; but 
for the nresent commands his angels to make several alterations in 
the heavens and elements. Adam, niore and more perceiving his 
fallen condition, heavily bewails, rejects the condolenient of Eve , 
she persists, and at length appeases him : then to evade the curse 
likely to fall on their offspring, proposes to Adam violent ways, 
which he approves not ; but conceiving better hope, putsher m mind 
of the late promise made them, that her seed should be rev-e"ged 
on the serpent, and exhorts her with him to seek peace of the of- 
fended Deity, by repentance and supplication. 



Meanwhile the heinous and despiteful act 

Of Satan done in paradise, and how 

He in the serpent had perverted Eve, 

Her husband she, to taste the fatal fruit, 

Was known in heav'n ; for what can scape the eye 

Of God all-seeing, or deceive His heart 

Omniscient, who, in all things wise and just, 

Hinder'd not Satan to attempt the mind 

Of man, with strength entire, and free will arm'd, 

Complete to have discover'd and repulsed 

Whatever wiles of foe or seeming fnend ! 

For still they knew, and ought to have still remember d 

The high injunction not to taste that fruit, 

Whoever tempted ; which they not obeying 

Incurr'd, what could they less? the penalty, 






^m. 




170 



PARADISE LOST. 




-^ 



And, manifold in sin, deserved to fall. 

Up into heav'n from paradise in haste 
Th' angelic guards ascended, mute and sad 
For man ; for of his state by this they knew. 
Much wondering how the subtle fiend had stol'n 
Entrance unseen. Soon as th' unwelcome news 
From earth arrived at heaven gate, displeased 
All were who heard ; dim sadness did not spare 
That time celestial visages, yet mix'd 
With pity violated not their bliss. 
About the new-arrived in multitudes 
Th' ethereal people ran, to hear and know 
How all befell : they towards the throne supreme 
Accountable made haste to make appear 
With righteous plea their utmost vigilance, 
And easily approved ; when the most high 
Eternal Father from his secret cloud 
Amidst, in thunder utter'd thus his voice. 

Assembled angels, and ye powers return'd 
From unsuccessful charge, be not dismay d 
Nor troubled at these tidings from the earth, 
Which your sincerest care could not prevent, 
Foretold so lately what would come to pass, 
When first this tempter cross'd the gulf from hell. 
I told ye then he should prevail and speed 
On his bad errand, man should be seduced 
And flatter'd out of all, believing lies 
Against his Maker ; no decree of mine 
Concurring to necessitate his fall, 
Or touch with lightest moment of impulse 
His free will, to her own inclining left 
In even scale. But fall'n he is, and now 
What rests, but that the mortal sentence pass 
On his transgression , death denounced that day, 
Which he presumes already vain and void, 
Because not yet inflicted, as he fear'd. 
By some immediate stroke ; but soon shall find 
Forbearance no acquittance ere day end. 
Justice shall not return as bounty scom'd. 
But whom send I to judge them ? whom but thee 
Vicegerent Son ; to thee I have transferr'd 
All judgment, whether in heav'n, or earth, or hell. 
Easy it may be seen that I intend 
Mercy colleague vnth justice, sending thee 
Man's friend, his Mediator, his design'd 
Both Ransom and Redeemer voluntary, 
And destined Man himself to judge man fall'n. 

So spake the Father, and, unfolding bright 
Toward the right hand His glory, on the Son 
Blazed forth unclouded Deity ; He full 





PARADISE LOST. 



171 



\.\ 



i;% 



m 



;4; 



■// 



Resplendent all His Father manifest 
Express'd, and thus divinely answer'd mild. 

Father eternal, thine is to decree, 
Mine both in heav'n and earth to do thy will 
Supreme, that thou in me thy Son beloved 
May'st ever rest well pleased. I go to judge 
On earth these thy transgressors, but thou know'st. 
Whoever judged, the worst on me must light. 
When time shall be ; for so I undertook 
Before thee, and not repenting this obtain 
Of right, that I may mitigate their doom 
On me derived ; yet I shall temper so 
Justice with mercy, as may illustrate most 
Them fully satisfied, and thee appease. 
Attendance none shall need, nor train, where none 
Are to behold the judgment, but the judged. 
Those two ; the third best absent is condemn 'd. 
Convict by flight, and rebel to all law. 
Conviction to the serpent none belongs. 

Thus saying, from His radiant seat He rose 
Of high collateral glory : Him thrones and powers. 
Princedoms and dominations ministrant 
Accompanied to heaven gate, from whence 
Eden and all the coast in prospect lay. 
Down He descended straight ; the speed of gods 
Time counts not, tho' with swiftest mmutes wmg'd. 
Now was the sun in western cadence low 
From noon, and gentle airs due at their hour 
To fan the earth now waked, and usher in 
The ev'ning cool, when He from wrath more cool 
Came, the mild Judge and Intercessor both, 
To sentence man : the voice of God they heard 
Now walking in the garden, by soft winds 
Brought to their ears, while day declined, they heard, 
And from His presence hid themselves among 
The thickest trees, both man and wife, till God 
Approaching thus to Adam call'd aloud. 

Where art thou Adam, wont with joy to meet 
My coming seen far off? I miss thee here ; 
Not pleased, thus entertain'd with solitude, 
WTiere obvious duty erewhile appear'd unsought: 
Or come I less conspicuous, or what change 
Absents thee, or what chance detains ? Come forth. 

He came, and with him Eve, more loth, though first 
To offend, discountenanced both, and discomposed. 
Love was not in their looks, either to God 
Or to each other, but apparent guilt. 
And shame, and perturbation, and despair. 
Anger, and obstinacy, and hate, and guile. 
Whence Adam, falt'ring long, thus answer'd l.rief. 






J 172 



PARADISE LOST. 



'W 




I heard thee in the garden, and of thy voice 
Afraid, being naked, hid myself. To whom 
The gracious Judge without revile replied. 

My voice thou oft hast heard, and hast not fear'd, 
But still rejoiced ; how is it now become 
So dreadful to thee ? that thou art naked, who 
Hath told thee ? hast thou eaten of the tree 
Whereof I gave thee charge thou shouldst not eat? 

To whom thus Adam sore beset replied. 

heav'n ! in evil strait this day I stand 
Before my judge, either to undergo 
Myself the total crime, or to accuse 

I\Iy other self, the partner of my life ; 
Whose failing, while her faith to me remains, 

1 should conceal, and not expose to blame 
By my complaint ; but strict necessity 
Subdues me, and calamitous constraint. 
Lest on my head both sin and punishment, 
However insupportable, be all 

Devolved : though should I hold my peace, yet thou 

Wouldst easily detect what I conceal. 

This woman, whom thou madest to be my help 

And gav'st me as thy perfect gift, so good, 

So fit, so acceptable, so divine. 

That from her hand I could suspect no ill. 

And what she did, whatever in itself. 

Her doing seem'd to justify the deed ; 

She gave me of the tree, and I did eat. 

To whom the sov' reign Presence thus replied. 
Was she thy God, that her thou didst obey 
Before His voice? or was she made thy guide, 
Superior, or but equal, that to her 
Thou didst resign thy manhood, and the place 
Wherein God set thee above her, made of thee 
And for thee, whose perfection far excell'd 
Hers in all real dignity ? adorn'd 
She was indeed, and lovely to attract 
Thy love, not thy subjection ; and her gifts 
Were such as under government well seem'd, 
Unseemly to bear rule, which was thy part 
And person, hadst thou known thyself aright. 

So having said. He thus to Eve in few : 
Say, woman, what is this which thou hast done? 

To whom sad Eve with shame nigh overwhelm'd, 
Confessing soon, yet not before her Judge 
Bold or loquacious, thus abash'd replied. 
The serpent me beguiled, and I did eat. 

Which when the Lord God heard, without delay 
To judgment He proceeded on th' accused 
Serpent though brute, unable to transfer 






PARADISE LOST. 



173 



The cruilt on him who made him instrument 

Of mischief, and polluted from the end 

Of his creation ; justly then accursed, 

As vitiated in nature : more to know 

Concern'd not man, since he no further knew, 

Nor alter'd his offence : yet God at last 

To Satan first in sin his doom applied, 

Thoucrh in mysterious terms, judged as then best. 

\nd on the serpent thus His curse let lall. 

' Because thou hast done this, thou art accursed 

Above all cattle, each beast of the fiela ; 

Upon thy belly groveUing thou slialt go 

\nd dust Shalt eat all the days of thy life. 

Between thee and the woman I will put 

Enmitv, and between thine and her seed 

He^seed shall bruise thy head, thou brmse his heel. 

So spake this oracle, then verified 
When Jesus, son of Mary, second Eve, 
Saw Satan fall Hke lightning down from heav n, 
Prince of the air ; then rising from His grave 
Spoil' d principalities and powers, triumph cl 
In open show, and with ascension bright 
Captivitv led captive through the air, 
The realm itself of Satan long usurp d. 
Whom He shall tread at last under our feet ; 
Ev'n He who now foretold His fatal bruise ; 
\nd to the woman thus His sentence turn d. 

Thv sorrow I will greatly multiply _ 

By thy conception ; children thou shalt bring 
In son-ow forth, and to thy husband s will 
Thine shall submit ; he over thee shall rule. 

On Adam last thus judgment He P^'o^o^^^^f • .^^ 
Because thou hast hearken'd to the voice of thy ^vite, 
\nd eaten of the tree concerning which 
"l char-ed thee, sa^•ing : Thou shalt not eat thereof. 
Cursed is the g'roundtor thy sake, thou m sorrow 
Shalt eat thereof all the daj-s of thy life 
Thorns also and thistles it shall tr"f tl^l fiSf 
Unbid. and thou shalt eat th' herb of the field , 
In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, 
Till thou return unto the ground, for tr.ou 
Out of the ground wast taken ; know thy birth. 
For dust thou art, and shalt to dust return. 

So judged he man, both Judge and Saviour sent 
And th' fnstant stroke of death denounced that day 
Removed far off; then pitying how they stood 
Before him naked to the air, that now 
Must suffer chanee, disdam'd not to begin 
Thenceforth the form of ser\-ant to assume. 
As when he wash'd his ser%'ants' feet, so now 






174 



PARADISE LOST. 




As father of his family he clad 

Their nakedness with skins of beasts, or slain, 

Or as the snake with youthful coat repaid ; 

And thought not much to clothe His enemies. 

Nor He their outward only with the skins 

Of beasts, but inward nakedness, much more 

Opprobrious, with His robe of righteousness. 

Arraying, cover'd from his Father's sight. 

To Him with swift ascent He up return'd. 

Into His blissful bosom reassunied 

In glory as of old ; to Him appeased 

All, though all-knowing, what had past with man 

Recounted, mixing intercession sweet. 

Meanwhile, ere thus was sinn'd and judged on earth, 
Within the gates of hell sat Sin and Death, 
In counterview within the gates, that now 
Stood open wide, belching outrageous flame 
Far into Chaos, since the fiend pass'd through, 
Sin opening, who thus now to Death began. 

O son, why sit we here, each other viewing 
Idly, while Satan our great author thrives 
In other worlds, and happier seat provides 
For us his offspring dear ? It cannot be 
But that success attends him ; if mishap 
Ere this he had return'd, with fury driven 
By his avengers, since no place like this 
Can fit his punishment, or their revenge. 
Methinks I feel new strength within me rise. 
Wings growing, and dominion giv'n me large 
Beyond this deep ; whatever draws me on, 
Or sympathy, or some connatural force, 
Powerful at greatest distance to unite 
With secret amity things of like kind 
By secretest conveyance. Thou my shade 
Inseparable must with me along ; 
For Death from Sin no power can separate. 
But lest the difficulty of passing back 
Stay his return perhaps over this gulf 
Impassable, impervious, let us try 
Advent'rous work, yet to thy power and mine 
Not unagreeable, to found a p ith 
Over this main from hell to that new world 
Where Satan now prevails, a moniiment 
Of merit high to all th' infernal host, 
Easing their passage hence, for intercourse. 
Or transmigration, as their lot shall lead. 
Nor can I miss the way so strongly drawn 
By this new felt attraction and instinct. 

Whom thus the meagre Shadow answer'd soon. 
Go whither fate and inclination strong 




1!^ 




•»?*■ 



PARADISE LOST. 



175 



% \ 






r 



*er 



Leads thee ; I shall not lag behind, nor err, 

The way thou leading, such a scent I draw 

Of carnage, prey innumerable, and taste 

The savour of death from all things there that live : 

Nor shall I to the work thou enterprisest 

Be wanting, but afford thee equal aid. 

So saying, with delight he snufT'd the smell 
Of mortal change on earth. As when a flock 
Of ravenous fowl, though many a league remote, 
Against the day of battle, to a field. 
Where armies lie encamp' d, come flying, Ivu-ed 
With scent of living carcasses design'd 
For death, the following day, in bloody fight : 
So scented the grim feature, and upturn'd 
His nostril wide into the murky air, 
Sagacious of his quarry from so far. 
Then both from out hell gates into the waste 
Wide anarchy of Chaos damp and dark 
Flew diverse, and with power, their power was great, 
Hovering upon the waters ; what they met 
Solid or slimy, as in raging sea 
Toss'd up and down, together crowded drove 
From each side shoaling towards the mouth of hell. 
As when the two polar winds, blowing adverse 
Upon the Crouian sea, together drive 
Mountains of ice, that stop th' imagined way 
Beyond Petsora eastward, to the rich 
Cathaian coast. The aggregated soil 
Death with his mace petrific, cold and dry, 
As with a trident smote, and fix'd as firm 
As Delos floating once ; the rest his look 
Bound with Gorgonian rigour not to move, 
And with Asphaltic slime, broad as the gate. 
Deep to the roots of hell the gather' d beach 
They fasten'd, and the mole immense wrought on 
Over the foaming deep high arch'd, a bridge 
Of length prodigious joining to the wall 
Immoveable of this now fenceless world 
Forfeit to death ; from hence a passage broad. 
Smooth, easy, inoffensive, down to hell. 
So, if great things to small may be compared, 
Xerxes, the liberty of Greece to yoke. 
From Susa his Memnonian palace high 
Came to the Sea, and over Hellespont 
Bridging his way, Europe with Asia join'd. 
And scourged with many a stroke th' indignant waves. 
Now had they brought the work by wondrous art 
Pontifical, a ridge of pendent rock 
Over the vex'd abyss, following the track 
Of Satan, to the self-same place where he 





f?^fe 




176 



PARADISE LOST. 



First lighted from his wing, and landed safe 

From out of Chaos, to the outside bare 

Of this round world : with pins of adamant 

And chains they made all fast, too fast they made 

And durable ; and now in little space 

The confines met of empyrean heav'n 

And of this world, and on the left hand hell 

"With long reach interposed ; three sev'ral ways 

In sight to each of these three places led. 

And now their way to earth they had descried. 

To paradise first tending, when behold 

Satan in likeness of an angel bright 

Betwixt the Centaur and the Scorpion steering 

His zenith, while the sun in Aries rose : 

Disguised he came, but those his children dear 

Their parent soon discern 'd, though in disguise. 

He, after Eve seduced unminded slunk 

Into the wood fast by, and, changing shape 

To observe the sequel, saw his guileful act 

By Eve, though all unweeting, seconded 

Upon her husband, saw their shame that sought 

Vain covertures : but when he saw descend 

The Son of God to judge them, terrified 

He fled ; not hoping to escape, but shun 

The present, fearing, guilty, what His wrath 

Might suddenly inflict : that past, return'd 

By night, and listening where the hapless pair 

Sat in their sad discourse and various plaint, 

Thence gatlier'd his own doom, which understood 

Not instant, but of future time, with joy 

And tidings fraught, to hell he now return'd, 

And at the brink of Chaos, near the foot 

Of this new wondrous pontifice, unhoped 

Met who to meet him came, his ofl^spring dear. 

Great joy was at their meeting, and at sight 

Of that stupendous bridge his joy increased. 

Long he admiring stood, till Sin, his fair 

Enchanting daughter, thus the silence broke, 

O parent, these are thy magnific deeds. 
Thy trophies, which thou view'st as not thine own ; 
Thou art their author and prime architect : 
For I no sooner in my heart divined. 
My heart which by a secret harmony 
Still moves with thine, join'd in connexion sweet, 
That thou on earth hadst prosper' d, which thy looks 
Now also evidence, but straight I felt. 
Though distant from thee worlds between, yet felt 
That I must after thee with this thy sou, 
Such fatal consequence unites us three. 
Hell could no longer hold us in her bounds, 







ife 




PARADISE LOST. 



177 









^ 



Nor this unvoyageable giilf obscure 
Detain from following thy illustrious track. 
Thou hast achieved our liberty, confined 
Within hell gates till now ; thou us empower'd 
To fortify thus far, and overlay 
With this portentous bridge the dark abyss. 
Thine nov/ is all this world, thy virtue hath won 
What tliy hands builded not, thy wisdom gain'd 
W' ith odds what war hath lost, and fully avenged 
Our foil in heav'n ; here thou shalt monarch reign, 
There didst not ; there let Him still victor sway, 
As battle hath adjudged, from this new world 
Retiring, by His own doom alienated, _ 
And henceforth monarchy with thee divide 
Of all things, parted by th' empyreal bounds, 
His quadrature, from thy orbicular world. 
Or try thee now more dang'roiis to his throne. 

W^hom thus the prince of darkness answer'd glad. 
Fair daughter, and thou son and grandchild both. 
High proof ye now have giv'n to be the race 
Of Satan, for I glory in the name, _ 
Antagonist of heav'n's almighty King, 
Amply have merited of me, of all 
Th' infernal empire, that so near heav'n's door 
Triumphal with, triumphal act have met. 
Mine with this glorious work, and made one realm 
Hell and this world, one realm, one continent 
Of easy thoroughfare. Therefore, while I _ 
Descend through darkness on your road with ease 
To my associate powers, them to acquaint 
With these successes, and with them rejoice, 
You two this way, among these numerous orbs 
All yours, right down to Paradise descend ; 
There dwell and reign in bliss, thence on the earth 
Dominion exercise and in the air. 
Chiefly on man, sole lord of all declared ; 
Him first make sure your thrall, and lastly kill. 
My substitutes I send ye, and create 
Plenipotent on earth, of matchless might 
Issuing from me : on your joint vigour now 
My hold of this new kingdom all depends, 
Through Sin to Death exposed by my exploit. 
If your joint power prevail, th' affairs of hell 
No detriment need fear ; go and be strong. 

So saying he dismiss' d them, they with speed 
Their course through thickest constellations held 
Spreading their bane ; the blasted stars look'd wan, 
And planets, planet-struck, real eclipse 
Then suffer' d. Th' other way Satan went down 
The causey to hell gate : on either side 




^ 




1 78 



PARADISE LOST 



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Disparted Cliaos over built exclaim'd, 

And with rebounding surge the bars assail'd, 

That scorn'd his indignation. Through the gate, 

Wide open and unguarded, Satan pass'd, 

And all about found desolate ; for those 

Appointed to sit there had left their charge, 

Flown to the upper world ; the rest were all 

Far to the inland retired, about the walls 

Of Pandsemoniiim, city and proud seat 

Of Lucifer, so by allusion call'd, 

Of that bright star to Satan paragon'd. 

There kept their watch the legions, while the grand 

In council sat, solicitous what chance 

Might intercept their emperor sent, so he 

Departing gave command, and they observed. 

As when the Tartar from his Russian foe 

By Astracan over the snowy plains 

Retires, or Bactrian Sophy from the horns 

Of Turkish crescent leaves all waste beyond 

The realm of Aladule iu his retreat 

To Tauris or Casbeen : so these, the late 

Heav'n-banish'd host, left desert utmost hell 

Many a dark league, reduced in careful watch 

Round their metropolis, and now expecting 

Each hour their great adventurer from the search 

Of foreign worlds : he through the midst unmark'd, 

In show plebeian angel militant 

Of lowest order, pass'd ; and from the door 

Of that Plutonian hall invisible 

Ascended his high throne, which, under state 

Of richest texture spread, at th" upper end 

Was placed in regal lustre. Down awhile 

He sat, and round about him saw unseen : 

At last as from a cloud his fulgent head 

And shape star-bright appear'd, or brighter, clad 

With what permissive glory since his fall 

Was left him, or false glitter. All amazed 

At that so sudden blaze the Stygian throng 

Bent their aspect, and whom they wish'd beheld. 

Their mighty chief return' d : loud was th' acclaim. 

Forth rush'd in haste the great consulting peers, 

Raised from their dark divaii, and with like joy, 

Congratulant approach'd him, who with hand 

Silence, and with these words attention, won. 

Thrones, dominations, princedoms, virtues, powers, 
For in possession such, not only of right, 
I call }'e and declare ye now, return' d 
Successful beyond hope, to lead y& forth 
Triumphant out of this infernal pit 
Abominable, accursed, the house of woe, 









PARADISE LOST. 



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And dungeon of our tyrant : now possess, 

As lords, a spacious world, to our native heaven 

Little inferior, by ni}' adventure hard 

With peril great achieved. Long were to tell 

What I have done, what suffer'd, with M-hat pain 

Voyaged th' unreal, vast, unbounded deep 

Of horrible confusion, over which 

By Sin and Death a broad way now is paved 

To expedite your glorious march : but I 

Toil'd out my uncouth passage, forced to ride 

Th' untractable abyss, plunged in the womb 

Of unoriginal Night and Chaos wild, 

That jealous of their secrets fiercely opposed 

My journey strange, with clamorous uproar 

Protesting fate supreme ; thence how I found 

The new created world, which fame in heav'n 

Long had foretold, a fabric wonderful 

Of absolute perfection, therein man 

Placed in a paradise, by our exile 

Made happj^ : him by fraud I have seduced 

From his Creator, and, the more to increase 

Your wonder, with an apple ; He thereat 

Offended, worth yoiu* laughter ! hath giv'n up 

Both His beloved man and all His world 

To Sin and Death a prey, and so to us. 

Without our hazard, labour, or alarm. 

To range in, and to dwell, and over man 

To rule, as over all He should have ruled. 

True is, me also he hath judged, or rather 

IMe not, but the brute sei'pent, in whose shape 

ilan I deceived : that which to me belongs 

Is enmity, which he wall put between 

]Me and mankind : I am to bruise his heel ; 

His seed, when is not set, shall bruise my head. 

A world who would not purchase -with a bruise. 

Or nuich more grievous pain ? Ye have th' account 

Of luy performance : what remains, ye gods, 

But up and enter now into full bliss ? 

So having said, awhile he stood, expecting 
Their universal shout and high applause 
To fill his ear, when contrary he hears 
On all sides, from innumerable tongues, 
A dismal universal hiss, the sound 
Of public scorn ; he wonder'd, but not long 
Had leisure, wond'ring at himself now more: 
His visage drawn he felt to sharp and spare. 
His arms clung to his ribs, his legs entwining 
Each other, till supplanted down he fell 
A monstrous serpent on his belh' prone. 
Reluctant, but in vain, a greater power 



41 
I 





i8o 



PARADISE LOST. 



t ' 



M 



Now ruled him, punish'd. in the shape he sinn'd, 

According to his doom. He would have spoke, 

But hiss for hissreturn'd with forked tongue 

To forked tongue, for now were all transform'd 

Alike, to serpents all as accessories 

To his bold riot : dreadful was the din 

Of hissing through the hall, thick swarming now 

With complicated monsters head and tail, 

Scorpion, and asp, and amphisbasna dire. 

Cerastes horn'd, hydrus, and ellop drear, 

And dipsas ; not so thick swarui'd once the soil 

Bedropp'd Vvith blood of Gorgon or the isle 

Ophiusa ; but still greatest he the midst, 

Now dragon grown, larger than whom the sun 

Ingender'd in the Pythian vale on slime, 

Huge Pj^thou, and his power no less he seem'd 

Above the rest still to retain. They all 

Him follow' d issuing forth to th' open field, 

Where all yet left of that revolted rout 

Heav'n-fall'n in station stood or just array. 

Sublime with expectation when to see 

In triumph issuing forth their glorious chief: 

They saw, but other sight instead, a crowd 

Of ugly serpents ; horror on them fell. 

And horrid sympathy ; for what they saw, 

They felt themselves now changing : down their arms, 

Down fell both spear and shield, down they as fast, 

And the dire hiss renew'd, and the dire form 

Catch' d by contagion, like in punishment. 

As in their crime. Thus was th' applause they meant 

Turn'd to exploding hiss, triumph to shame. 

Cast on themselves from their own mouths. There stood 

A grove hard by, sprung up with this their change. 

His will who reigns above, to aggravate 

Their penance, laden with fair fruit, like that 

Which grew in Paradise, the bait of Eve 

Used by the tempter : on that prospect strange 

Their earnest eyes they fix'd, imagining 

For one forbidden tree a multitude 

Now ris'n, to work them further woe or shame : 

Yet parch' d with scalding thirst and hunger fierce. 

Though to delude them sent, could not abstain, 

But on they roll'd in heaps, and up the trees 

Climbing sat thicker than the snaky locks 

That curl'd Mega;ra : greedily they pluck'd 

The fruitage fair to sight, like that which grew 

Near that bituminous lake where Sodom flamed ; 

This more delusive, not the touch, but taste 

Deceived ; they, fondly thinking to allay 

Their appetite with gust, instead of fruit 



# 




* 





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PARADISE LOST. 



i8i 



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Chew'd bitter ashes, which th' offended taste 

With spattering noise rejected : oft they assay'd, 

Hunger and thirst constraining, drugg'd as oft, 

With hatefuUest disrehsh writhed their jaws 

With soot and cinders fill'd ; so oft they fell 

Into the same illusion, not as man 

Whom they triutnph'd once lapsed. Thus were they plagued 

And worn with famine long and ceaseless hiss, 

Till their lost shape, permitted, they resumed ; 

Yearly eujoin'd, some say, to undergo 

This annual humbling certain number' d days 

To dash their pride and joy for man seduced. 

However, some tradition they dispersed 

Among the heathen of their purchase got, 

And fabled how the serpent, whom they call'd 

Ophion with Eurynome, the wide 

Encroaching Eve perhaps, had first the rule 

Of high Olympus, thence by Saturn driv'u 

And Ops, ere j'et Dictaeau Jove was born. 

Meanwhile in paradise the hellish pair 
Too soon arrived, Sin there in power before, 
Once actual, now in body, and to dwell 
Habitual habitant ; behind her Death 
Close following pace for pace, not mounted yet 
On his pale horse ; to whom Sin thus began. 

Second of Satan sprung, all conquering Death, 
What think'st thou of our empire now, though earn'd 
With travail difficult, not better far 
Than still at hell's dark threshold to have sate watch, 
Unnamed, undreaded, and thyself half starved ? 

Whom thus the sin-born monster answer'd soon. 
To me, who with eternal famine pine. 
Alike is hell, or paradise, or heaven, 
There best, where most with ravin I may meet : 
Which here, though plenteous, all too little seems 
To stuff this maw, this vast uuhide-bound corps. 

To whom th' incestuous mother thus replied. 
Thou therefore on these herbs, and fruits, and flowers 
Feed first ; on each beast next, and fish, and fowl ; 
No homely morsels ; and whatever thing 
The scythe of Time mows down, devour unspared, 
Till I in man residing through the race. 
His thoughts, his looks, words, actions, all infect ; 
And season him thy last and sweetest prey. 
This said, they both betook them several ways. 
Both to destroy, or unimmortal make 
All kinds, and for destruction to mature 
Sooner or later ; which th' Almighty seeing, 
From his transcendent seat the saints among, 
To thoL e bright orders utter'd thvis his voice. 



I ' 





l82 



PARADISE LOST. 



See witli what heat these dogs of hell a.lvance 
To waste and havoc yonder world, which I 
So fair and good created, and had still 
Kept in that state, had not the folly of man 
Let in these wasteful furies, who impute 
Folly to me ; so doth the prince of hell 
And his adherents, that with so much ease 
I suffer them to enter and possess 
A place so heavenly, and conniving seem 
To gratify my scornful enemies. 
That laugh, as if, transported with some fit 
Of passion, I to them had quitted all. 
At random yielded up to their misrule ; 
And know not that I call'd and drew them thither 
My hell-hounds, to lick up the draff and filth, 
Which man's polluting sin with taint hath shed 
On what was pure ! till cramm'd and gorged, nigh burst 
With suck'd and glutted offal, at one sling 
Of thy victorious arm, well-pleasing Son, 
Both Sin, and Death, and yawning Grave, at last 
Through Chaos hurl'd obstruct the mouth of hell 
For ever, and seal up his ravenous jaws. 
Then heav'n and earth renew'd shall be made pure 
To sanctity that shall receive no stain : 
Till then the curse pronounced on both precedes. 

He ended, and the heav'nly audience loud 
Sung Hallelujah, as the sound of seas, 
Through multitude that sung : Just are thy ways, 
Righteous are thy decrees on all thy works ; 
Who can extenuate thee ? Next, to the Son, 
Destined restorer of mankind, by whom 
New heav'n and earth shall to the ages rise, 
Or down from heav'n descend. Such was their song 
\\'Tiile the Creator calling forth by name 
His mighty angels gave them several charge. 
As sorted best with present things. The sun 
Had first his precept so to move, so shine. 
As might affect the earth with cold and heat 
Scarce tolerable, and from the north to call 
DecBepit winter ; from the south to bring 
Solstitial summer's heat. To the blank moon 
Her office they prescribed, to th' other five 
Their planetary motions and aspects 
In Sextile, Square, and Trine, and Opposite, 
Of noxious efficacy, and when to join 
In synod unbenign, and taught the fix'd 
Their influence malignant when to show'r, 
Which of them rising with the sun, or falling. 
Should prove tempestuous. To the w'inds they set 
Their corners, when with bluster to confound 







?^^?i:i5';f^ \xj.N^-3 



\f 




PARADISE LOST. 



183 



'1' ■* 



Sea, air, and shore ; the thunder when to roll 

With terror through the dark aereal hall. 

Some say, he bid his angels turn askance 

The poles of earth twice ten degrees and more 

From the sun's axle ; they with labour push'd 

Oblique the centric globe : some sa}-, the sun 

Was bid turn reins from th' equinoctial road 

Like distant breadth to Taurus with the sev'n 

Atlantic sisters, and the Spartan twins. 

Up to the Tropic Crab ; thence down amain 

By Leo, and the Virgin, and the Scales, 

As deep as Capricorn, to bring in change 

Of seasons to each clime ; else had the spring 

Perpetual smiled on earth with vernant flow'rs, 

Equal in days and nights, except to those 

Beyond the polar circles ; to them day 

Had unbenighted shone, while the low sun 

To recompense his distance in their sight 

Had rounded still th' horizon and not known 

Or east or west, which had forbid the snow 

From cold Fstotiland, and south as far 

Beneath Magellan. At that tasted fruit 

The sun, as from Thyestean banquet, tum'd 

His course intended ; else how had the world 

Inhabited, though sinless, more than now 

Avoided pinching cold and scorching heat? 

These changes in the heav'ns, though slow, produced 

Like change on sea and land, sideral blast, 

Vapour, and mist, and exhalation hot. 

Corrupt and pestilent. Now from the north 

Or Norumbega and the Samoed shore, 

Bursting their brazen dun_2:eon, arm'd with ice, 

And snow, and hail, and stormy gust, and flaw, 

Boreas, and Ceecias, and Argestes loud, 

And Thrascias rend the woods, and seas upturn ; 

With adverse blast upturns them from the south 

Notus, and Afer black with thund'rous clouds 

From Serraliona, thwart of these as fierce 

Forth rush the Levant and the Ponent winds, 

Eurus and Zephyr with their lateral noise 

Sirocco and Libecchio. Thus began 

Outrage from lifeless things ; but Discord first 

Daughter of Sin, among th' irrational 

Death introduced through fierce antipathy : 

Beast now with beast gan war, and fowl %\ith fowl, 

And fish with fish ; to graze the herb all leaving 

Devour'd each other; nor stood much in awe 

Of man, but fled him, or with count' nance grim 

Glared on him passing. These were from without 

The growing miseries, which Adam saw 




^. 




1 84 



PARADISE LOST. 






\}i 



Already in part, thougli hid in gloomiest shade, 
To sorrow abandon'd, but worse felt witnm. 
And, in a troubled sea of passion toss'd, 
Thus to disburden sought with sad complaint. 

miserable of happy ! is this the end 
Of this new glorious world, and me so late 
The glory of that glory, who now become 
Accursed of blessM ? Hide me from the face 
Of God, whom to behold was then my highth 
Of happiness : yet well, if here would end 
The misery, I deserved it, and would bear 
My own deserv'ings ; but this will not serve ; 
All that I eat, or drink, or shall beget. 

Is propagated curse. O voice once heard 
Delightfully, Encrease and multiply, 
Now death to hear ! for what can I encrease 
Or multiply, but curses on my head ? 
Who of all ages to succeed, but feeling 
The evil on him brought by me, will curse 
My head ? Ill fare our ancestor impure, 
For this we may thank Adam ; but his thanks 
Shall be the execration ; so besides 
Mine own that bide upon me, all from me 
Shall with a fierce reflux on me redound, 
On me, as on their natural centre light 
Heavv, though in their place. O fleeting joys 
Of paradise, dear bought with lasting woes ! 
Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay. 
To mould me man ? Did I solicit tbee 
From darkness to promote me, or here place 
In this delicious garden ? As my will 
Concurr'd not to my being, it were but right 
And equal to reduce me to my dust, 
Desirous to resign, and render back 
All I received, unable to perform 
Thy terms too hard, by which I was to hold 
The good I sought not. To the loss of that 
Sufficient penalty, why hast thou added 
The sense of endless woes ? Inexplicable 
Thy justice seems ; yet, to say truth, too late 

1 thus contest : then should have been refused 
These terms, whatever, when they were proposed 
Thou didst accept them ; wilt thou enjoy the good, 
Then ca\-il the conditions ? and though God 
Made thee without thy leave, what if thy son 
Prove disobedient, and reproved retort, 
Wherefore didst thou beget me ? I sought it not 
Wouldst thou admit for his contempt of thee 
That proud excuse ? yet him not thy election. 
But natural necessitv begot. 





PARADISE LOST. 



1S5 



.^::^^^v 



'J" 



God made thee of choice his own, and of his own 

To ser\'e him, thy reward was of his grace, 

Thy punishment then justly is at his will. 

Be it so, for I submit, his doom is fair, 

That dust I am, and shall to dust return : 

O welcome hour whenever ! why delays 

His hand to execute what his decree 

Fix'd on this day? why do I overlive? 

Why am I mock'd with death, and lengthen'd out 

To deathless pain ? how gladly would I meet 

Mortality my sentence, and be earth 

Insensible ! how glad would lay me down 

As in my mother's lap? there I should rest 

And sleep secure ; His dreadful voice no more 

Would thunder in my ears ; no fear of worse 

To me and to my offspring would torment me 

With cruel expectation. Yet one doubt 

Pursues me still, lest all I cannot die. 

Lest that pure breath of life, the spirit of man 

Which God inspired, cannot together perish 

With this corporeal clod ; then in the grave, 

Or in some other dismal place, who knows 

But I shall die a living death ? O thought 

Horrid, if true ! yet why ? it was but breath 

Of life that sinn'd ; what dies but what had life 

And sin ? the body properly hath neither. 

All of me then shall die ; let this appease 

The doubt, since human reach no further knows. 

For though the Lord of all be infinite, 

Is His wrath also ? be it, man is not so, 

But mortal doom'd. How can He exercise 

Wrath without end on man whom death must end ? 

Can He make deathless death ? that were to make 

Strange contradiction, which to God Himself 

Impossible is held, as argument 

Of weakness, not of power. Will He draw out, 

For anger's sake, finite to infinite 

In punish'd man, to satisfy his rigour 

Satisfied never ? that were to extend 

His sentence beyond dust and nature's law, 

By which all causes else, according still 

To the reception of their matter, act, 

Not to th' extent of their own sphere. But say, 

That death be not one stroke, as I supposed, 

Bereaving sense, but endless misery 

From this day onward, which I feel begini 

Both in me, and without me, and so last 

To perpetuitv. Ay me ! that fear 

Comes thund'ring back with dreadful revolution 

On mv defenceless head ; both death and I 





1 86 PARADISE LOST. 

Are found eternal, and incorporate both ; 

Nor I on my part single, in me all 

Posterity stands cursed. Fair patrimony 

That I must leave ye, sons ; O were I able 

To waste it all myself, and leave ye none ! 

So disinherited, how would ye bless 

Me, now your curse ! Ah ! why should all mankind. 

For one man's fault thus guiltless be condemn'd, 

If guiltless? But from me what can proceed, 

But all corrupt, both mind and will depraved. 

Not to do only, but to will the same 

With me ? how can they then acquitted stand 

In sight of God ? Him, after all disputes, 

Forced I absolve : all my evasions vain, 

And reasonings, though through mazes, lead me still 

But to my own conviction : first and last 

On me, me only, as the source and spring 

Of all corruption, all the blame lights due ; 

So might the wrath ! Fond wish ! couldst thou support 

That burden heavier than the earth to bear. 

Than all the world much heavier, though divided 

With that bad woman ? Thus what thou desir'st. 

And what thou fear'st, alike destroys all hope 

Of refuge, and concludes the miserable 

Beyond all past example and future, 

To Satan onl}' like both crime and doom. 

Conscience, into what abyss of fears 

And horrors hast thou driv'n me, out of which 

1 find no way from deep to deeper plunged ! 
Thus Adam to himself lamented loud 

Through the still night, not now, as ere man fell, 

Wholesome, and cool, and mild, but with black air 

Accompanied, with damps and dreadful gloom. 

Which to his evil conscience represented 

All things with double terror. On the ground ^ -v . . -. 

Outstretch'd he lay, on the cold ground, and oft <?-5^?H'>^^"'*?^' ' 

Cursed his creation, death as oft accused , - '7'^-":- "'t^el^^' ' 

Of tardy execution, since denounced 

The day of his offence. Why comes not death, 

Said he, with one thrice acceptable stroke 

To end me ? Shall truth fail to keep her word, 

Justice divine not hasten to be just? 

But death comes not at call, justice divine 

Mends not her slowest pace for prayers or cries. 

O woods, O fountains, hillocks, dales, and bow'rs, 

With other echo late I taught your shades 

To answer, and resound far other song. 

Whom thus afflicted when sad Eve beheld. 

Desolate where she sat, approaching nigh, 

Soft words to his fierce passion she assay'd : 







PARADISE LOST. 187 

But her with stern regard he thus repell'd. 

Out of my sight, thou serpent ! that name best 
Befits thee ^\-ith him leagued, thyself as false 
And hateful ; nothing wants, but that thy shape, 
Like his, and colour serpentine may show 
Thy inward fraud, to warn all creatures from thee 
Henceforth ; lest that too heav'nly form, pretended 
To hellish falsehood snare them. But for thee 
I had persisted happy, had not thy pride 
And wand'ring vanity, when least was safe. 
Rejected my forewarning, and disdain "d 
Not to be trusted, longing to be seen 
Though by the devil himself, him overweening 
To over-reach ; but with the serpent meeting, 
Fool'd and beguiled, by him thou, I by thee, 
To trust thee from my side, imagined wise, 
Constant, mature, proof against all assaults, 
And understood not all was but a show 
Rather than solid virtue, all but a rib 
Crooked by nature, bent, as now appears, 
More to the part sinister from me drawn, 
Well if thrown out, as supernumerary 
To my just number found. Oh ! why did God, 
Creator wise, that peopled highest heav'n 
With spirits masculine, create at last 
This novelty on earth, this fair defect 
Of nature, and not fill the world at once 
With men as angels without feminine. 
Or find some other way to generate 
Mankind ? This mischief had not then befall'n, 
And more that shall befall ; innumerable 
Disturbances on earth through female snares. 
And straight conjunction with this sex : for either 
He never shall find out fit mate, but such 
As some misfortune brings him, or mistake, 
Or whom he wishes most shall seldom gain 
Through her perverseness ; but shall see her gain'd 
By a far worse ; or if she love, withheld 
By parents ; or his happiest choice too late 
Shall meet, already link'd and wedlock-bound 
To a fell adversary, his hate or shame ; ■• 

\\Tiich infinite calamity shall cause 
To human life, and household peace confound. 

He added not, and from her turn'd ; but Eve 
Not so repulsed, with tears that ceased not flowing. 
And tresses all disorder' d, at his feet 

Fell humble, and, embracing them, besought 1 

His peace, and thus proceeded in her plaint. ^ 

Forsake me not thus, Adam, witness heav'n j 

What love sincere and reverence in mv heart a ' i 





i88 PARADISE LOST. 

I bear thee, and iinweeting have offended, 

Unhappily deceived ; thy suppliant 

I beg, and clasp thy knees ; bereave me not 

Whereon I live, thy gentle looks, thy aid, 

Thy counsel in this uttermost distress, 

My only strength and stay : forlorn of thee, 

Whither shall I betake me, where subsist ? 

While yet we live, scarce one short hour perhaps, 

Between us two let there be peace, both joining, 

As join'd in injuries, one enmity 

Against a foe by doom express assign'd us. 

That cruel serpent. On me exercise not 

Thy hatred for this misery befall'n. 

On me already lost, me than thyself 

More miserable; both have sinn'd, but thou 

Against God only, I against God and thee. 

And to the place of judgment will return. 

There with my cries importune heav'n, that all 

The sentence, from thy head removed, may light 

On me, sole cause to thee of all this woe 

Me, me only just object of his ire. 

She ended weeping, and her lowly plight, 
Immoveable till peace obtained from fault 
Acknowledged and deplored, in Adam wrought 
Commiseration ; soon his heart relented 
Towards her, his life so late and sole delight. 
Now at his feet submissive in distress ; 
Creature so fair his reconcilement seeking. 
His counsel, whom she had displeased, his aid; 
As one disarm'd, his anger all he lost, 
And thus with peaceful words upraised her soon. 

Unwary and too desirous as before, 
So now of what thou know'st not, who desir'st 
The punishment all on thyself; alas, 
Bear thine own first, ill able to sustain 
His full wrath, whose thou feel'st as yet least part. 
And my displeasure bear'st so ill. If prayers 
Could alter high decrees, I to that place 
Would speed before thee, and be louder heard, 
That ©n my head all might be visited. 
Thy frailty and infirmer sex forgiv'n. 
To me committed, and by me exposed. 
But rise, let us no more contend, nor blame 
Each other, blamed enough elsewhere, but strive 
In ofl&ces of love how we may lighten 
Each other's burden in our share of woe ; 
Since this day's death denounced, if aught I see. 
Will prove no sudden, but a slow-paced evil, 
A long day's dying to augment our pain, 
And to our seed, O hapless seed ! derived. 



m 







PARADISE LOST. 

To whom thus Eve, recovering heart, replied. 
Adam, by sad experiment I know 
How little weight my words with thee can find, 
Found so erroneous, thence by just event 
Found so unfortunate ; nevertheless, 
Restored by thee, vile as I am, to place 
Of new acceptance, hopeful to regain 
Thy love, the sole contentment of my heart 
Living or dying, from thee I will not hide 
What thoughts in my unquiet breast are ris'n, 
Tending to some relief of our extremes. 
Or end, though sharp and sad, 3'et tolerable, 
As in our evils, and of easier choice. 
If care of our descent perplex us most, 
Which must be born to certain woe, devour'd 
By Death at last, and miserable it is 
To be to others cause of misery, 
Our own begotten, and of our loins to bring 
Into this cursed world a woful race 
That after wretched life must be at last 
Food for so foul a monster, in thy power 
It lies, yet ere conception to prevent 
The race unblest, to being yet unbegot. 
Childless thou art, childless remain : so Death 
Shall be deceived his glut, and with us two 
Be forced to satisfy his rav'nous maw. 
But if thou judge it hard and difficult, 
Conversing, looking, loving, to abstain 
From love's due rites, nuptial embraces sweet, 
And with desire to languish without hope. 
Before the present object languishing 
W^ith like desire, which would be misen,-, 
And torment less than none of what we dread, 
Then both ourselves and seed at once to free 
From what we fear for both, let us make short; 
Let us seek Death, or, he not found, supply 
With our own hands his office on ourselves : 
Why stand we longer shivering under fears, 
That show no end but death, and have the power, 
Of many ways to die the shortest choosing. 
Destruction with destruction to destroy ? 

She ended here, or vehement despair 
Broke off the rest ; so much of death her thoughts 
Had entertain'd, as dj-ed her cheeks with pale. 
But Adam, with such counsel nothing sway'd. 
To better hopes his more attentive mind 
Labouring had raised, and thus to Eve replied. 

Eve, thy contempt of life and pleasure seems 
To argue in thee something more sublime 
And excellent than what thy mind contemns ; 



189. 






igo 



h 



PARADISE LOST. 



m^ 



But self-destruction therefore sought refutes 
That excellence thought in thee, and implies 
Not thy contempt, but anguish and regret ' 
For loss of life and pleasure overloved 
Or if thou covet death, as utmost end 
Of misery, so thinking to evade 
The penalty pronounced, doubt not but God 
Hath wiseher arm'd his vengeful ire than so 
To be forestall'd : much more I fear lest death 
bo snatch'd will not exempt us from the pain 
We are by doom to pay : rather such acts 
Ut contumacy will provoke the Highest 
To make death in us live : then let us seek 
Some safer resolution, which methinks 
I have m view, calling to mind with heed 
Part of our sentence, that thy seed shall bruise 
the serpent's head : piteous amends, unless 
Be meant, whom I conjecture, our grand foe 
batan, who in the serpent hath contrived 
Against us this deceit. To crush his head 
Would be revenge indeed ; which will be lost 
By death brought on ourselves, or childless days 
Xesolved, as thou proposest ; so our foe 
bhall scape his punishment ordain 'd, and we 
Instead shall double ours upon our heads. 
-No more be mention'd then of violence 
Against ourselves, and wilful barrenness 
That cuts us oif from hope, and savours only 
Kancour and pride, impatience and despite 
Reluctance against God and His just yoke 
Ivaid on our necks. Remember with what mild 
And gracious temper He both heard and judged 
Without wrath or reveling ; we expected 
Immediate dissolution, which we thouo-ht 
Was meant by death that day, when, iSl to thee 
Pains only in child-bearing were foretold. 
And bringing forth ; soon recompensed with ioy, 
l^ruit of thy womb : on me the curse aslope 
Glanced on the ground, with labour I must earn 
My bread ; what harm ? idleness bad been worse • 
My labour will sustain me ; and lest cold 
Or heat should injure us, His timely care 
Hath unbesought provided, and His hands 
eiothed us unworthy, pitving while He iudged 
How much more, if we pray Him, will His ear 
Be open, and His heart to pity incline. 
And teach us further by what means to shun 
Ai?T,-"l "^",^ seasons, rain, ice, hail, and snow, 
Which now the sky with various face begins 
lo show us in this mountain, while the winds 



^yz-M 




.^ ^,_^g^~^ 




W-. 




PARADISE LOST. 



191 



W 



Blow moist and keen, shattering the graceful locks 

Of these fair spreading trees, which bids us seek 

Some better shroud, some better warmth to cherish 

Our limbs benumb'd, ere this diurnal star 

Leave cold the night, how we his gather'd beams 

Reflected may with matter sere foment, 

Or by collision of two bodies grind 

The air attrite to fire, as late the clouds 

Justling or push'd with winds rude in their shock 

Tine the slant lightning, whose thwart flame driv'n down 

Kindles the gummy bark of fir or pine. 

And sends a comfortable heat from far, 

Which might suppl}^ the sun. Such fire to use, 

And what may else be remedy or cure 

To e^^ls which our own misdeeds have wrought ; 

He will instruct us praying, and of grace 

Beseeching Him, so as we need not fear 

To pass commodiously this life, sustain'd 

By Him with many comforts, till we end 

In dust, our final rest and native home. 

What better can we do, than, to the place 

Repairing where He judged us, prostrate fall 

Before Him reverent, and there confess 

Humbly our faults, and pardon beg, with tears 

Watering the ground, and with our sighs the air 

Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign 

Of sorrow unfeign'd and humiliation meek ? 

Undoubtedly He will relent and turn 

From His displeasure, in whose look serene, 

When angry most He seem'd and most severe, 

What else but favour, grace, and mercy shone ? 

So spake our father penitent, nor Eve 
Felt less remorse : they forthwith to the place 
Repairing where He judged them prostrate fell 
Before Him reverent, and both confess' d 
Humbly their faults, and pardon begg'd, vrith tears 
Watering the ground, and with their sighs the air 
Frequenting, sent from hearts contrite, in sign 
Of sorrow unfeign'd and humiliation meek. 



f 








^ '%^^ 




192 



PARADISE LOST, 




BOOK XI. 



The Argument. 



■^ 



The Son of God presents to his Father the prayers of our first 
parents now repenting, and intercedes for thera : God accepts them, 
but declares that they must no longer abide in paradise ; sends 
Michael with a band of cherubim to dispossess them ; but first to re- 
veal to Adam future things: Michael's coming down. Adam shows 
to Eve certain ominous signs ; he discerns Michael's approach ; goes 
out to meet him : the angel denounces their approaching departure. 
Eve's lamentation. Adam pleads, but submits : the angel leads him 
up to a high hill ; sets before him in vision what shall happen till the 
Flood. 



Thus they in lowliest plight repentant stood, 

Praying, for from the mercy-seat above 

Prevenient grace descending had removed 

The stony from their hearts, and made new flesh 

Regenerate grow instead, that sighs now breath'd 

Unutterable, which the spirit of prayer 

Inspired, and wing'd for heav'n with speedier flight 

Than loudest oratory : yet their port 

Not of mean suitors, nor important less 

Seem'd their petition, than when the ancient pair 

In fables old, less ancient yet than these, 

Deucalion and chaste Pyrrha to restore 

The race of mankind drown'd, before the shrine 

Of Themis stood devout. To heav'n their prayers 

Flew up, nor miss'd the way, by envious winds 

Blown vagabond or frustrate : in they pass'd 

Dimensionless through heav'nly doors ; then clad 

With incense, where the golden altar fumed, 

By. their great Intercessor, came in sight 

Before the Father's throne ; them the glad Son 

Presenting, thus to intercede began. 

See, Father, what first fruits on earth are sprung 
From thy implanted grace in man, these sighs 
And prayers, which in this golden censer mix'd 
With incense, I thy priest before thee bring. 
Fruits of more pleasing savour from thy seed 
Sown with contrition in his heart, than those 
Which his own hand manuring all the trees 
Of paradise could have produced, ere fall'n 
From innocence. Now therefore bend thine ear 
To supplication, hear his sighs though nmte ; 
Unskilful with what words to pray, let me 







3 



^gaagsjB^ 



ri 



PARADISE LOST. 193 



i, luterpret for him, me his advocate 

|,i'j ^ And propitiation ; all his works on me 

Good or not good ingraft, my merit those 



4IPI1 \ ^\ ^'i' Shall perfect, and for these my death shall pay. 

" '' •' ' ■ ' Accept me, and in me from these receive 

The smell of peace toward mankind, let him live 

Before thee reconciled, at least his days 

Number'd, though sad, till death his doom, (which I 

To mitigate thus plead, not to reverse, ) 

To better life shall yield him, where with me 

All my redeem' d may dwell in joy and bliss ; 

I^Iade one \vith me as I with thee am one. 
To whom the Father, without cloud, serene : 
-r All thy request for man, accepted Son, 

y Obtain ; all thy request was my decree : 

^^ But longer in that Paradise to dwell 

r' / ' The law I gave to nature him forbids : 

■: Those pure immortal elements, that know 

No gross, no unharmonious mixture foul, 

Eject him tainted now, and purge him off 

As a distemper gross, to air as gross. 

And mortal food, as may dispose him best 
' For dissolution wrought by sin, that first 

Distemper'd all things, and of incorrupt 

Corrupted. I, at first, with two fair gifts 
|i!|l Mlj' Created him endow d, with happiness 

' f/ And immortality : that fondly lost, 

' f This other served but to eternize woe, 

I Till I provided death ; so death becomes 

* " His final remedy, and after life 

Ir- ^ Tried in sharp tribulation, and refined 

^uJ"^ Bv faith and faithful works, to second life, 

Waked in the renovation of the just, 

Resigns him up with heav'n and earth renew'd. 

But let us call to synod all the blest 

Through heav'n's wide bounds; from them I will not hide ^^ ^ 

:My judgments: how with mankind I proceed, ^^^^Bli^slw* 1 

As' how with peccant angels late they saw ; ^^ 1^*! iiilll«».l\\\\w 

And in their state, though firm, stood more confirm'd. 
He ended, and the Son gave signal high 

To the bright minister that watch'd ; he blew 

His trumpet, heard in Oreb since perhaps 

When God descended, and perhaps once more 

To sound at general doom. Th' angelic blast 
,;!. Fill'd all the regions : from their blissfiil bow'rs 

) Of Amaranthine shade, fountain or spring, 

'':,! By the waters of life, where ere they sat 

In fellowships of joy, the sons of light 

Hasted, resorting to the summons high. 

And took their seats ; till from His throne supreme 





194 



PARADISE LOST. 



m 






Th' Almighty thus pronounced His sov'reign will. 

O Sons, like one of us man is become 
To know both good and evil since his taste 
Of that defended fruit ; but let him boast 
His knowledge of good lost, and evil got ; 
' m\ \i|i Happier, had it sufficed him to have known 

\ '[]' Good by itself, and evil not at all. 

He sorrows now, repents, and prays contrite. 
My motions in him, longer than they move. 
His heart I know how variable and vain 
Self-left. L,est therefore his now bolder hand 
Reach also of the Tree of Life, and eat, 
And live for ever, dream at least to live 
For ever, to remove him I decree, 
And send him from the garden forth to till 
The ground whence he was taken, fitter soil. 
Michael, this my behest have thou in charge. 
Take to thee from among the Cherubim 
,^ Thy choice of flaming warriors, lest the fiend. 

Or in behalf of man, or to invade 
Vacant possession, some new trouble raise : 
Haste thee, and from the Paradise of God 
Without remorse drive out the sinful pair. 
From hallow'd ground th' unholy, and denounce 
To them and to their progeny from thence 
Perpetual banishment. Yet lest they faint 
At the sad sentence rigorously urged. 
For I behold them soften 'd and with tears 
Bewailing their excess, all terror hide. 
If patiently thy bidding they obey, 
Dismiss them not disconsolate ; reveal 
To Adam what shall come in future days. 
As I shall thee enlighten ; intermix 
My cov'nant in the woman's seed renew'd ; 
So send them forth, though sorrowing, j-et in peace ; 
And on the east side of the garden place. 
Where entrance up from Eden easiest climbs. 
Cherubic watch, and of a sword the flame 
Wide waving, all approach far off to fright, 
And guard all passage to the Tree of Life : 
Lest paradise a receptacle prove 
To spirits foul, and all my trees their prey. 
With whose stol'n fruit man once more to delude. 
He ceased; and th' archangelic pow'r prepared 
For swift descent, with him tlie cohort bright 
Of watchful Cherubim ; four faces each 
Had, like a double Janus ; all their shape 
Spangled with eyes more niimerous than those 
Of Argus, and more wakeful than to drowse, 
Charm'd with Arcadian Pipe, the pastoral reed 



i 




^^s^-:: 



'^S^^Piyj'v-fi^^^P 



-J^ 







PARADISE LOST. 



195 



^-Sii'J 






Of Hermes, or his opiate rod. Meanwhile, 
To resalute the world with sacred light 
Leucothea waked, and with fresh dews imbalm'd 
The earth, when Adam and first matron Eve 
Had ended now their orisons, and found 
Strength added from above, new hope to spring 
Out of despair, joy, but with fear yet link'd ; 
Which thus to Eve his welcome words reuew'd. 

Eve, easily may faith admit, that all 
The good which we enjoy from heav'n descends ; 
But that from us aught should ascend to heav'n 
So prevalent as to concern the mind 
Of God high-bless' d, or to incline His will. 
Hard to belief may seem ; yet this will prayer. 
Or one short sigh of human breath, upborne 
Ev'n to the seat of God. For since I sought 
By prayer th' offended Deity to appease, 
Kneel' d and before Him humbled all my heart, 
Methought I saw Him placable and mild, 
Bending His ear : persuasion in me grew 
That I was heard with favour ; peace return'd 
Home to my breast, and to my memory 
His promise, that thy seed shall bruise our foe ; 
Which, then not minded in dismay-, }-et now 
Assures me that the bitterness of death 
Is past, and we shall live. Whence hail to thee, 
Eve rightly call'd, mother of all mankind, 
Mother of all things living, since by thee 
Man is to live, and all things live for man. 

To whom thus Eve with sad demeanour meek. 
Ill worthy I such title should belong 
To me transgressor, who, for thee ordain'd 
A help, became thy snare : to me reproach 
Rather belongs, distrust, and all'dispraise : 
But infinite in pardon was my Judge, 
That I, who first brought death on all, am graced 
The source of life ; next favourable thou. 
Who highly thus to entitle me vouchsaf'st, 
Far other name deserving. But the field 
To labour calls us now with sweat imposed. 
Though after sleepless night ; for see, the mom. 
All unconcern'd with our iinrest, begins 
Her rosy progress smiling ; let us forth, 
I never from thy side henceforth to stray, 
Where'er our day's work lies, though now enjoin'd 
Laborious, till day droop ; while here we dwell. 
What can be toilsome in these pleasant walks ? 
Here let us live, though in fall'u state, content. 

So spake, so wHsh'd much humbled Eve ; but fate 
Subscribed not; nature first gave signs, impress'd 









li^ 




196 



PARADISE LOST. 



On bird, beast, air ; air suddenly eclipsed 
After short blush of morn : nigh in her sight 
The bird of Jove, stoop'd from his aer}- tow'r, 
Two birds of gayest phime before him drove : 
Down from a hill the beast that reigns in woods, 
First hunter then, pursued a gentle brace, 
Goodliest of all the forest, hart and hind; 
Direct to th' eastern gate was bent their flight. 
Adam observ^ed, and, with his eye the chase 
Pursuing, not unmoved to Eve thus spake. 

O Eve, some further change awaits us nigh, 
Which heav'n b}^ these mtite signs in nature shows 
Forerunners of his purpose, or to warn 
Us haply too secure of our discharge 
From penalty, because from death released 
Some days; how long, and what till then our life, 
Who knows, or more than this, that we are dust. 
And thither must return and be no more ? 
W^hy else this double object in our sight 
Of flight pursued in th' air, and o'er the ground. 
One way the selfsame hour ? Why in the east 
Darkness ere day's mid-course, and morning light 
More orient in yon western cloud, that draws 
O'er the blue firmament a radiant white, 
And slow descends, with something heav'nly fraught? 

He err'd not, for by this the heav'nly bands 
Down from a skj' of jasper lighted now 
In Paradise, and on a hill made halt, 
A glorious apparition, had not doubt 
And carnal fear that day dimm'd Adam's eye. 
Not that more glorious, when the angels met 
Jacob in Mahanaim, where he saw 
The field pavilion'd with his guardians bright; 
Nor that which on the flaming mount appear'd 
In Dothau, cover'd with a camp of fire, 
Against the Syrian king, who to surprise 
One man assassin-like had levy'd war, 
War unproclaim'd. The princely hierarch 
In their bright stand there left his powers to seize 
Possession of the garden ; he. alone. 
To find where Adam shelter' d, took his way, 
Not unperceived of Adam, who to Eve. 
While the great visitant approach'd, thus spake. 

Eve, now expect great tidings, which perhaps 
Of us will soon determine, or impose 
New laws to be observed ; for I descry 
From yonder blazing cloud that veils the hill 
One of the heav'nly host, and by his gait 
None of the meanest, some great potentate, 
Or of the thrones above, such majesty 







%^. 




" The heavenly bands 
Down from a sky of jasper lighted now 
In Paradise.'' - 'BooVi XI., lines 208-210. 



^".r 



WH 




. PARADISE LOST. 197 

Invests him coming ; yet not terrible, 
That I should fear, nor sociably mild. 
As Raphael, that I should much confide, 
But solemn and sublime, whom not to offend 
With reverence I must meet, and thou retire. 

He ended ; and th' archangel soon drew nigh, 
Not in his shape celestial, but as man 
Clad to meet man ; over his lucid arms 
A military vest of purple flow'd, 
Livelier than Meliboean, or the grain 
Of Sarra, worn by kings and heroes old 
In time of truce ; Iris had dipp'd the woof; 
His starry helm unbuckled show'd him prime 
In manhood where youth ended ; by his side 
As in a glistering zodiac hung the sword, 
Satan's dire dread, and in his hand the spear. 
Adam bow'd low, he kingly from his state 
Inclined not, but his coming thus declared. 

Adam, heav'n's high behest no preface needs. 
Sufficient that thy prayers are heard, and death, 
Then due by sentence when thou didst transgress, 
Defeated of his seizure many days 
Giv'n thee of grace, wherein thou may'st repent, 
And one bad act with many deeds well done 
May'st cover : well may then thy Lord appeased 
Redeem thee quite from death's rapacious claim ; 
But longer in this Paradise to dwell 
Permits not : to remove thee I am come. 
And send thee from the garden forth to till 
The ground whence thou wast taken, fitter soil. 

He added not, for Adam at the news 
Heart-struck with chilling gripe of soitow stood, 
That all his senses bound; Eve, who iinseen 
Yet all had heard, with audible lament 
Discover' d soon the place of her retire. 

O unexpected stroke, worse than of death ! 
Must I thus leave thee, paradise ? thus leave 
Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades, 
Fit haunt of Gods ? where I had hope to spend. 
Quiet though sad, the respite of that day 
That must be mortal to us both. O flow'rs, 
That never will in other climate grow, 
My early visitation, and my last 
At ev'n, which I bred up with tender hand 
From the first op'ning bud, and gave ye names, 
Who now shall rear ye to the sun, or rank 
Your tribes, and water from th' ambrosial fount ? 
Thee lastly, nuptial bow'r, by me adorn'd 
With what to sight or smell was sweet ; from thee 
How shall I part, and whither wander down 



!-:«»- 



z^;:^0 




198 PARADISE LOST. 

Into a lower -u'orld, to this obscure 

And wild ? how shall we breathe in other air 

Less pure, accustom'd to immortal fruits? 

Whom thus the angel interrupted mild. 
Lament not, Eve, but patiently resign 
What justly thou hast lost ; nor set thy heart. 
Thus over-fond, on that which is not thine : 
Thy going is not lonely, with thee goes 
Thy husband, him to follow thou art bound ; 
Where he abides, think there thy native soil. 

Adam, by this from the cold sudden damp 
Recovering, and his scatter'd spirits return'd, 
To Michael thus his humble words address'd. 

Celestial, whether among the thrones, or named 
Of them the highest, for such of shape may seem 
Prince above princes, gently hast thou told 
Thy message, which might else in telling wound, 
And in performing end us ; what besides 
Of sorrow, and dejection, and despair, 
Our frailty can sustain, thy tidings bring. 
Departure from this happy place, our sweet 
Recess, and only consolation left 
Familiar to our eyes, all places else 
Inhospitable appear and desolate. 
Nor knowing us nor known ; and if by prayer 
Incessant I could hope to change the will 
Of Him who all things can, I would not cease 
To weary Him with my assiduous cries. 
But prayer against His absolute decree 
No more avails than breath against the wind, 
Blown stifling back on him that breathes it forth : 
Therefore to His great bidding I submit. 
This most afflicts me, that departing hence 
As from His face I shall be hid, deprived 
His blessed count'nance; here I could frequent. 
With worship, place by place, where he vouchsafed 
Presence divine, and to my sons relate ; 
On this mount He appear'd, under this tree 
Stood visible, among these pines His voice 
I heard, here with Him at this fountain talk'd : 
So many grateful altars I would rear 
Of grassy turf, and pile up every stone 
Of lustre from the brook, in memor}^ 
Or monument to ages, and thereon 
Offer sweet-smelling gums, and fruits, and flow'rs : 
In yonder nether world where shall I seek 
His bright appearances or footstep trace ? 
For though I fled Him angrv', yet, recall'd 
To life prolong'd and promised race, I now 
Gladly behold though but His utmost skirts 







t 



PARADISE LOST. 199 

Of glory, and far ofif His steps adore. 

To whom thus Michael with regard benign. 
Adam, thon know'st heav'n His, and all the earth, 
Not this rock only : His omnipresence fills 
Land, sea, and air, and every kind that lives. 
Fomented by His virtual power and warm'd : 
All th' earth He gave thee to possess and rule. 
No despicable gift ; surmise not then 
His presence to these narrow bounds confined 
Of Paradise or Eden : this had been 
Perhaps thy capital seat, from whence had spread 
All generations, and had hither come 
From all the ends of the earth, to celebrate 
And reverence thee, their great progenitor. 
But tliis preeminence thou hast lost, brought down 
To dwell on even ground now with thy sons : 
Yet doubt not but in valley and in plain 
God is as here, and will be found alike 
Present, and of His presence many a sign 
Still following thee, still compassing thee round 
With goodness and paternal love, His face 
Express, and of His steps the track di^^ne. 
Which that thou ma3''st believe and be confirm'd 
Ere thou from hence depart, know, I am sent 
To show thee what shall come in future days 
To thee and to thy offspring ; good with bad 
Expect to hear, supernal grace contending- 
With sinfulness of men ; thereby to learn 
True patience, and to temper joy with fear 
And pious sorrow, equally inured 
By moderation either state to bear, 
Prosperous or adverse : so shalt thou lead 
Safest thy life, and best prepared endure 
Thy mortal passage when it comes. Ascend 
This hill ; let Eve, for I have drench'd her eyes. 
Here sleep below, while thou to foresight wakest. 
As once thou slept'st, while she to life was form'd. 

To whom thus Adam gratefully replied. 
Ascend, I follow thee, safe guide, the path 
Thou lead'st me, and to the hand of heav'n submit 
However chast'ning, to the evil turn 
IMy obvious breast, arming to overcome 
By suffering, and earn rest from labour won, 
If so I may attain. So both ascend 
In the visions of God. It was a hill, 
Of Paradise the highest, from whose top 
The hemisphere of earth in clearest ken 
Stretch'd out to the amplest reach of prospect lay. 
Not higher that hill nor wider looking round. 
Whereon for different cause the tempter set 



^^^^ 




PARADISE LOST. 



\\ 11 



villi!" 



Our second Adani in the wilderness. 

To show him all earth's kingdoms and their glory. 

His eye might there command wherever stood 

City of old or modern fame, the seat 

Of mightiest empire, from the destined walls 

Of Cambalu, seat of Cathaian Can, 

And Samarchand by Oxus, Temir's throne, 

To Paquin of Sinaean kings, and thence 

To Agra and Lahor of great Mogul, 

Down to the golden Chersonese, or where 

The Persian in Ecbatan sat, or since 

In Hispahan, or where the Russian Czar 

In Mosco, or the Sultan in Bizance, 

Turchestan-born ; nor could his e3e not ken 

Th' empire of Negus to his utmost port 

Ercoco, and the less maritime kings 

Mombaza, and Quiloa, and Melind, 

And Sofala thought Ophir, to the realm 

Of Congo, and Angola farthest south ; 

Or thence from Niger flood to Atlas mount 

The kingdoms of Almansor, Fez, and Sus, 

Marocco, and Algiers, and Tremisen ; 

Or Europe thence, and where Rome was to sway 

The world : in spirit perhaps he also saw 

Rich Mexico the seat of Motezume, 

And Cusco in Peru, the richer seat 

Of Atabalipa, and yet unspoil'd 

Guiana, whose great city Geryon's sons 

Call El Dorado ; but to nobler sights 

Michael from Adam's eyes the film removed, 

Which that false fruit that promised clearer sight 

Had bred ; then purged with euphrasy and rue 

The visual nerve, for he had much to see ; 

And from the well of life three drops instill' d. 

So deep the power of these ingredients pierced, 

Ev'n to the inmost seat of mental sight, 

That Adam, now enforced to close his eyes, 

Sunk down, and all his spirits became intranced: 

But him the gentle angel by the hand 

Soon raised, and his attention thus recall'd. 

Adam, now ope thine eyes, and first behold 
Th' effects which thy original crime hath wrought 
In some to spring from thee, who never touch'd 
The excepted tree, nor with the snake conspired, 
Nor sinn'd thy sin ; yet from that sin derive 
Corruption to bring forth more violent deeds. 

His eyes he open'd, and beheld a field. 
Part arable and tilth, whereon were sheaves 
New reap'd, the other part sheep-walks and folds : 
I' th' midst au altar as the land-mark stood, 





V 




I 



PARADISE LOST. 

Rustic, of grassy sord ; thither anon 
A sweaty reaper from his tillage brought 
First fruits, the green ear, and the yellow sheaf, 
Uncull'd, as came to hand ; a shepherd next 
]\Iore meek came with the firstlings of his flock 
Choicest and best ; then sacrificing laid 
The inwards and their fat, with incense strew' d, 
On the cleft wood, and all due rites perform'd. 
His off'ring soon propitious fire from heav'n 
Consumed with nimble glance, and grateful steam ; 
The other's not, for his was not sincere : 
Whereat he inly raged, and, as they taik'd, 
Smote him into the midriff -with a s-tone 
That beat out life ; he fell, and deadly pale 
Groan'd out his soul with gushing blood effused. 
Ikluch at that sight was Adam in his heart 
Dismay'd, and thus in haste to th' angel cried. 
O teacher, some great mischief hath befall'n 
To that meek man, who well had sacrificed ; 
Is piety thus and pure devotion paid? 

T' whom Michael thus, he also moved, replied. 
These two are brethren, Adam, and to come 
Out of thv loins ; th' unjust the just hath slain, 
For envy that his brother's offering found 
From heav'n acceptance ; but the bloody fact 
Will be avenged, and th' other's faith approved 
Lose no reward, though here thou see him die, 
Rolling in dust and gore. To which our sire : 

Alas, both for the deed and for the cause ! 
But have I now seen death ? is this the way 
I must return to native dust? O sight 
Of terror, foul and ugly to behold, 
Horrid to think, how horrible to feel ! 

To whom thus IMichael. Death thou hast seen 
In his first shape on man ; but many shapes 
Of Death, and many are the ways that lead 
To his grim cave, all dismal ; yet to sense 
:\Iore terrible at th' entrance than within. 
Some, as thou saw'st, by violent stroke shall die. 
By fire, flood, fannne, by intemperance more 
In meats and drinks, which on the earth shall bring 
Diseases dire, of which a monstrous crew 
Before thee shall appear ; that thou may'st know 
What misery th' inabstinence of Eve 
Shall bring on men. Immediately a place 
Before his eyes appear'd, sad, noisome, dark, 
A lazar-house it seem'd, wherein were laid 
Numbers of all diseased, all maladies 
Of ghastly spasm, or racking torture, qualms 
Of heart-sick agom-, all feverous kinds, 






PARADISE LOST. 



Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs, 
Intestine stone and ulcer, colic pangs, 
Dasnioniac frenzy, moping melancholy, 
And moon-striick madness, pining atrophy, 
Marasmus, and wide-wasting pestilence, 
Dropsies, and asthmas, and joint-racking rheums. 
Dire was the tossing, deep the groans ; Despair 
Tended the sick, busiest from couch to couch ; 
And over them triumphant Death his dart 
Shook, but delay'd to strike, though oft invoked 
With vows, as their chief good, and final hope. 
Sight so deform what heart of rock could long 
Dry-ey'd behold ? Adam could not, but wept. 
Though not of woman born ; compassion quell' d 
His best of man, and gave him up to tears 
A space, till firmer thoughts restrain'd excess, 
And scarce recovering words his plaint renew 'd. 

miserable mankind, to what fall 
Degraded, to what wretched state reserved ! 
Better end here unborn. Why is life giv'n 
To be thus wrested from us ? rather Vv^hy 
Obtnided on us thus ? who, if we knew 
What we receive, would either not accept 
Ivife offer'd, or soon beg to lay it down. 
Glad to be so dismiss' d in peace. Can thus 
Th' image of God in man, created once 

So goodly and erect, though faulty since. 

To such unsightly sufferings be debased 

Under inhuman pains ? Why should not man, 

Retaining still divine similitude 

In part, from such deformities be free, 

And for his Maker's image sake exempt ? 

Their Maker's image, answer'd Michael, then 
Forsook them, when themselves they villified 
To serve ungovern'd appetite, and took 
His image whom they served, a brutish \'ice, 
Inductive mainly to the sin of Eve. 
Therefore so abject is their punishment. 
Disfiguring not God's likeness, but their own, 
Or if His likeness, by themselves defaced, 
\\'Tiile they pervert pure nature's healthful rules 
To loathsome sickness, worthily, since they 
God's image did not reverence in themselves. 

1 yield it just, said Adam, and submit. 
But is there yet no other way, besides 
These painful passages, how we may come 
To death, and mix with our connatural dust ? 

There is, said Michael, if thou well observe 
The rule of not too much, by temperance taught 
In what thou eat'st and drink'st, seeking from thence 




PARADISE LOST. 203 

Due nourisliment, not gluttonous delight, 

Till many years over thy head return, • 

So may'st thou live, till like ripe fruit thou drop 

Into thy mother's lap, or be with ease 

Gather'd, not harshly pluck'd, for death mature. 

This is old age ; but then thou must outlive 

Thy youth, thy strength, thy beauty, which will change 

To wither'd, weak, and grey : thy senses then 

Obtuse all taste of pleasure must forego 

To what thou hast, and for the air of 3-outh, 

Hopeful and cheerful, in thy blood will reign 

A melancholy damp of cold and dry 

To weigh thy spirits down, and last consume 

The balm of life. To whom our ancestor : 

Henceforth I fly not death, nor would prolong 
Life much, bent rather how I may be quit 
Fairest and easiest of this cumbrous charge, 
Which I must keep till my appointed day 
Of rend'ring up, and patiently attend 
My dissolution. Michael replied. 

Nor love thy life, nor hate ; but what thou liv'st 
Live well, how long or short permit to Heav'n : • 
And now prepare thee for another sight. 
He look'd, and saw a spacious plain, whereon 
Were tents of various hue ; by some were herds 
Of cattle grazing : others, whence the sound 
Of instruments that made melodious chime 

Was heard, of harp and organ ; and who moved , , 

Their stops and chords was seen : his volant touch M 

Instinct through all proportions low and high I 

Fled and pursued transverse the resonant fugue, "'t 

In other part stood one who, at the forge "j'. 

Labouring, two massy clods of iron and brass ' l 

Had melted, whether found where casual fire i 

Had wasted woods on mountain or in vale, 
Down to the veins of earth, thence gliding hot 
To some cave's mouth, or whether wash'd by stream 
From underground ; the liquid ore he drain'd 
Into fit moulds prepared ; from which he form'd 
First his own tools ; then, what might else be wrought 
Fusil or grav'n in metal. After these, 
But on the hither side, a different sort 
From the high neighbouring hills, which was their seat, 
Down to the plain descended : by their guise 
Just men they seem'd, and all their study bent 
To worship God aright, and know His works 
Not hid, nor those things last, which might preser^^e 
Freedom and peace to men : they on the plain 
Long had not walk'd, when from the tents behold 
A bevy of fair women, richly gay 




^^^^^^^^^^P^ ^^#^ -■ ^^ ~^=^?^ 



^''^(N-t;^ "^-Il^-S^ 




% 



;; 204 PARADISE LOST. 

In gems and wanton dress ; to the harp they suno- 
Soft amorous ditties, and in dance came on : 
The men, though grave, ej'ed them, and let their eyes 
^ iiiii i«i, Rove without rein, till, in the amorous net 

IJi [, il|l ' Fast caught, they liked, and each his liking chose : 

I ■ And now of love they treat, till the ev'ning star, 

I; Love's harbinger, appear'd; then all in heat 

\ They light the nuptial torch, and bid invoke 

^' Hymen, then first to marriage rites invoked ; 

* With feast and music all the tents resound. 

'' Such happy interview and fair event 

Of love and youth not lost, songs, garlands, flow'rs 
"^ And charming symphonies attach'd the heart 

j^ Of Adam, soon inclined to admit delight, ,: 

^ The bent of nature, which he thus express'd. 

a' True opener of mine eyes, prime angel bless'd, 

Much better seems this vision, and more hope 
Of peaceful days portends, than those two past ; 
Those were of hate and death, or pain much worse, 
J Here nature seems fulfill'd in all her ends. 

To whom thus Michael. Judge not what is best 
By pleasure, though to nature seeming meet, , '/^^ 

Created, as thou art, to nobler end 
,' Holy and pure, conformity divine. 

4 ': j Those tents, thou saw'st so pleasant, were the tents 

V Of wickedness, wherein shall dwell his race 

Who slew his brother ; studious they appear iM 

i; Of arts that polish life, inventors rare, ''m' 

:'i Unmindful of their Maker, though his Spirit 11 

,i Taught them, but the}' his gifts acknowledged none. ',''(/ 

,.1 Yet they a beauteous offspring shall beget ; /jlf 

U.< For that fair female troup thou saw'st, that seem'd ' Jj 

Of Goddesses, so blithe, so smooth, so gay, I 

■ ^ Yet empty of all good wherein consists 

Woman's domestic honour and chief praise ; 

Bred only and completed to the taste 

Of lustful appetence, to sing, to dance, ^ 

To dress, and troll the tongue, and roll the eye. 

To these that sober race of men, whose lives 

Religious titled them the sons of God, 

Shall yield up all their virtue, all their fame 

Ignobly, to the trains and to the smiles 

Of these fair atheists ; and now swim in joy. 

Erelong to swim at large, and laugh ; for which 

The world erelong a world of tears must weep. 

To whom thus Adam of short joy bereft ; 
O pity and shame, that they, who to live well 
Enter'd so fair, should turn aside to tread 
Paths indirect, or in the midway faint ! 
But still I see the tenor of man's Vv'oe 







I' 



4 ■ ' V ' 




m 



PARADISE LOST. 

Holds on the same, from woman to begin. 

From man's effeminate slackness it begins, 
Said th' angel, who should better hold his place 
By wisdom and superior gifts received. 
But now prepare thee for another scene. 

He look'd and saw wide territory spread 
Before him, towns, and rural works between, 
Cities of men with lofty gates and tow'rs. 
Concourse in arms, fierce faces threat' ning war. 
Giants of mighty bone, and bold emprise ; 
Part wield their arms, part curb the foaming steed, 
Single, or in array of battle ranged 
Both horse and foot, nor idly must'ring stood : 
One way a band select from forage drives 
A herd of beeves, fair oxen and fair kine, 
From a fat meadow ground ; or fleecy flock, 
Ewes and their bleating lambs, over the plain, 
Their booty ; scarce with life the shepherds fly, 
But call in aid which makes a bloody fray. 
With cruel tournament the squadrons join ; 
Where cattle pastured late, now scatter' d lies 
With carcasses and arms th ensanguined field. 
Deserted. Others to a city strong 
Lay siege, encamp'd, by battery, scale and mine. 
Assaulting ; others from the wall defend 
With dart and javelin, stones and sulphurous fire ; 
On each hand slaughter and gigantic deeds. 
In other part the sceptred heralds call 
To council in the city gates : anon 
Grey-headed men and grave, with warriors niix'd, 
Assemble, and harangues are heard ; but soon 
In factious opposition : till at last 
Of middle age one rising, eminent 
In wise deport, spake much of right and wrong. 
Of justice, of religion, truth and peace, 
And judgment from above : him old and young 
Exploded, and had seized with violent hands. 
Had not a cloud descending snatch'd him thence 
Unseen amid the throng : so violence 
Proceeded, and oppression, and sword-law. 
Through all the plain, and refuge none was found. 
Adam was all in tears, and to his guide 
Lamenting turn'd full sad ; O ! what are these. 
Death's ministers, not men, who thus deal death 
Inhumanly to men, and multiply 
Ten thousand-fold the sin of him who slev/ 
His brother ; for of whom such massacre 
Make they but of their brethren, men of men ? 
But who was that just man, whom had not heav'n 
Rescued, had in his righteousness been lost ? 



205 





"^ 




2o6 PARADISE LOST. 

i|';iii To whom thus Michael. These are the product 

jl» Of those ill-mated marriages thou saw'st ; 

J I Where good with bad were match'd, who of themselves 

aI'II ' Abhor to join ; and by imprudence mix'd 

Produce prodigious births of body or mind. 

Such were these giants, men of high renown ; 

For in those days might only shall be admired, 

And valor and heroic virtue call'd : 

To overcome in battle, and subdue 

Nations, and bring home spoils with infinite 

Manslaughter, shall be held the highest pitch 

Of human glory, and for glory done 

Of triumph, to be styled great conquerors, 

Patrons of mankind, Gods, and sons of Gods, 

Destroj-ers rightlier call'd and plagues of men. 

Thus fame shall be achieved, renown on earth. 

And what most merits fame in silence hid. 

But he, the seventh from thee, whom thou beheld'st 

The only righteous in a world perverse. 

And therefore hated, therefore so beset 

With foes for daring single to be just. 

And utter odious truth, that God would come 

To judge them with his saints ; him the most High 

Wrapt in a balmy cloud with winged steeds 

Did, as thou saw'st, receive, to walk with God 

High in salvation and the climes of bliss. 

Exempt from death : to show thee what reward 

Awaits the good, the rest what punishment : 

Which now direct thine eyes and soon behold : ,, 

He looked, and saw the face of things quite changed, //| 

The brazen throat of war had ceased to roar; /'[ 

.^^s*^^ All now was turned to jollity and game, 

To luxury and riot, feast and dance. 

Marrying or prostituting as befell. 

Rape or adultery, where passing fair 

Allured them ; thence from cups to civil broils. 

At length a reverend sire among them came, 

And of their doings great dislike declared. 

And testified against their wa3'S ; he oft 

Frequented their assemblies, whereso met 

Triumphs, or festivals, and to them preach 'd 

Conversion and repentance, as to souls 

In prison under judgments imminent : 

But all in vain : which when he saw, he ceased 

Contending, and removed his tents far off: 

Then from the mountain hewng timber tall. 

Began to build a vessel of huge bulk. 

Measured by cubit, length, and breadth, and highth, 

Smear'd round with pitch, and in the side a door 

Contrived, and of provisions laid in large 




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PARADISE LOST. 207 

For man and beast : when lo, a wonder strange ! 
, , , Of every beast, and bird, and insect small, 

\\>|ri i'j' Came sevens, and pairs, and enter'd in, as taught 
i 1 A. 1 1| , Their order : last the sire and his three sons 

'|i| \ , With their four wives ; and God made fast the door. 

ii,, / \^ \ ' ' Meanwhile the south wind rose, and, with black wings 

\.:y} \^ ■" ^\ Wide hovering, all the clouds together drove 

i^vS^ '" -'"'i:^---^ From under heav'n ; the hills to their supply 

■" ■' ^ Vapour, and exhalation dusk and moist 

Sent up amain : and now the thicken'd sky 
Like a dark ceiling stood ; down rush'd the rain 
Impetuous, and continued till the earth 
No more was seen ; the floating vessel swum 
Uplifted ; and secure with beaked prow 
Rode tilting o'er the waves, all dwellings else 
Flood overwhelm'd, and them with all their pomp 
Deep under water roll'd ; sea cover'd sea, 
!j. Sea without shore, and in their palaces. 

Where luxury late reign'd, sea-monsters whelp'd 
And stabled ; of mankind, so numerous late, 
All left in one small bottom swum embark'd. 
How didst thou grieve then, Adam, to behold 
The end of all thy offspring, end so sad, 
Depopulation ! thee another flood, 
Of tears and sorrow a flood thee also drown'd. 
And sunk thee as thy sons ; till gently rear'd 
By the angel, on thy feet thou stood'st at last. 
Though comfortless, as when a father mourns 
His children, all in view destroy'd at once ; 
And scarce to th' angel utter'dst thus thy plaint. 
^ _ O visions ill foreseen ! better had I 

\u.s'^^^&^~ ;:^,' -^ Lived ignorant of future, so had borne 

My part of evil only, each day's lot 
Enough to bear ; those now, that were dispensed 
The burden of many ages, on me light 
At once, by my foreknowledge gaining birth 
Abortive, to torment me ere their being. 
With thought that they must be. Let no man seek 
Henceforth to be foretold what shall befall 
Him or his children ; evil he may be sure. 
Which neither his foreknowing can prevent. 
And he the future evil shall no less 
In apprehension than in substance feel. 
Grievous to bear : but that care now is past, 
Man is not whom to warn ; those few escaped 
Famine and anguish will at last consume 
Wand' ring that wat'ry desert. I had hope. 
When violence was ceased, and war on earth, 
All would have then gone well ; peace would have crown'd 
With length of happy days the race of man ; 




^(W'-- 




_^ 



208 



PARADISE LOST. 



W^^ 



But I was far deceived ; for now I see 
Peace to corrupt no less than war to waste. 
How comes it thus ? unfold, celestial guide, 
And whether here the race of man will end. 

To whom thus Michael. Those whom last thou saw'st 
In triumph and luxurious wealth, are they 
First seen in acts of prowess eminent 
And great exploits, but of true virtue void ; 
Who having spill'd much blood, and done much waste, 
Subduing nations, and achieved thereby 
Fame in the world, high titles, and rich prey. 
Shall change their course to pleasure, ease, and sloth. 
Surfeit, and lust, till wantonness and pride 
Raise out of friendship hostile deeds in peace. 
The conquer'd also and enslaved by war 
Shall with their freedom lost all virttie lose 
And fear God, from whom their piety feign'd 
In sharp contest of battle found no aid 
Against invaders ; therefore cool'd in zeal 
Thenceforth shall practise how to live secure, 
Worldly, or dissolute, on what their lords 
Shall leave them to enjoy, for th' earth shall bear 
More than enough, that temperance may be tried : 
So all shall turn degenerate, all depraved. 
Justice and temperance, truth and faith forgot ; 
One man except, the only son of light 
In a dark age, against example good. 
Against allurement, custom, and a world 
Offended ; fearless of reproach and scorn. 
Or violence, he of their wicked ways 
Shall them admonish, and before them set 
The paths of righteousness, how much more safe 
And full of peace, denouncing wrath to come 
On their impenitence ; and shall return 
Of them derided, but of God observed 
The one just man alive ; by his command 
Shall build a wondrous ark, as thou beheld' st, 
To save himself and household from amidst 
A world devote to universal wreck. 
No sooner he with them of man and beast 
Select for life shall in the ark be lodged 
And shelter' d round, but all the cataracts 
Of heav'n set open on the earth shall pour 
Rain day and night, all fountains of the deep 
Broke up shall heave the ocean to usurp 
Beyond all bounds, till inundation rise 
Above the highest hills : then shall this mount 
Of Paradise by might of waves be moved 
Out of his place, push'd by the horned flood, 
With all his verdure spoil'd, and trees adrift. 




\-^^ 4^fc 







-r 



PARADISE LOST. 



209 



■m : 



:1, 



Down the great river to the op'ning gulf, 

And there take root, an island salt and bare, 

The haunt of seals, and ores, and sea-mews' clang ; 

To teach thee that God attributes to place 

No sanctity, if none be thither brought 

By men w'ho there frequent, or therein dv^ell. 

And now what further shall er.sue, behold. 

He look'd, and saw the ark hull on the flood, 
Which now abated, for the clouds were fled, 
Driv'n by a keen north-T^ind, that blowing dry 
Wrinkled the face of deluge, as decay'd ; 
And the clear sun on his wide wat'ry glass 
Gazed hot, and of the fresh wave largely drew, 
As after thirst, which made their flowing shrink 
From standing lake to tripping ebb, that stole 
With soft foot towards the deep, who now had stopp'd 
His sluices, as the heav'n his windows shut. 
The ark no more now floats, but seems on ground 
Fast on the top of some high mountain fix'd. 
And now the tops of hills as rocks appear ; 
With clamour thence the rapid currents drive 
Towards the retreating sea their furious tide. 
Forthwith from out the ark a raven flies, 
And after him, the surer messenger, 
A dove, sent forth once and again to spy 
Green tree or ground whereon his foot may light ; 
The second time returning, in his bill 
An olive leaf he brings, pacific sign : 
Anon dry ground appears, and from his ark 
The ancient sire descends with all his train ; 
Then with uplifted hands, and eyes devout. 
Grateful to heav'n, over his head beholds 
A dewy cloud, and in the cloud a bow 
Conspicuous with three listed colours gay, 
Betok'ning peace from God, and cov'nant new. 
Whereat the heart of Adam erst so sad 
Greatly rejoiced, and thus his joy broke forth. 

O thou, who future things canst represent 
As present, heav'nly instructor, I revive 
At this last sight, assured that man shall live 
With all the creatures, and their seed preserve. 
Far less I now lament for one whole world 
Of wicked sons destroy'd, than I rejoice 
For one man found so perfect and so just. 
That God vouchsafes to raise another world 
From him, and all his anger to forget. 
But say, what mean those colour'd streaks in heav'n. 
Distended as the brow of God appeased ? 
Or serve they as a flow'ry verge to bind 
The fluid skirts of that same wat'rv cloud 





PARADISE LOST. 




Lest it again dissolve and show'r the earth ? 

To whom th' archangel. Dext'rously thou aim'st; 
So willingly doth God remit His ire, 
Though late repenting Him of man depraved, 
Grieved at His heart, when looking down He saw 
The whole earth fill'd with violence, and all flesh 
Corrupting each their way ; yet, those removed, 
Such grace shall one just man find in His sight, 
That He relents, not to blot out mankind, 
And make a covenant never to destroy 
The earth again by flood, nor let the sea 
Surpass his bounds, nor rain to drown the world 
With man therein or beast ; but when he brings 
Over the earth a cloud, will therein set 
His triple-colour' d bow, whereon to look, 
And call to mind his cov'nant : day and night, 
Seed-time and harvest, heat and hoary frost, 
Shall hold their course, till fire purge all things new. 
Both heav'n and earth wherein the just shall dwell. 




^ 



f^'-- 




PARADISE LOST. 



BOOK XII. 






The Argument. 

The angel Michael continues from the flood to relate what shall 
succeed ; then, in the mention of Abraham, comes by degrees to ex- 
plain, who that seed of the woman shall be, which was promised 
Adam and Eve in the fall ; his incarnation, death, resurrection, and 
ascension ; the state of the church till his second coming. Adam, 
greatly satisfied, and recomforted by these relations and promises, 
descends the hill with Michael ; wakens Eve, who all this while had 
slept, but with gentle dreams composed to quietness of mind and 
submission. Michael in either hand leads them out of paradise, the 
fiery sword waving behind them, and the Cherubim taking their 
stations to guard the place. 




As one who in his journey bates at noon, 

Though bent on speed, so here th' archangel paused 

Betwixt the world destroy'd and world restored, 

If Adam aught perhaps might interpose ; 

Then with transition sweet new speech resumes. 

Thus thou hast seen one world begin and end ; 
And man as from a second stock proceed. 
Much thou hast yet to see, but I perceive 
Thy mortal sight to fail : objects divine 
Must needs impair and weary human sense : 
Henceforth wliat is to come I will relate, 
Thou therefore give due audience, and attend. 

This second source of men, while yet but few. 
And while the dread of judgment past remains 
Fresh in their minds, fearing the Deity, 
With some regard to what is just and right 
Shall lead their lives, and multiply apace. 
Labouring the soil, and reaping plenteous crop, 
Corn, wine, and oil; and from the herd, or flock, 
Oft sacrificing bullock, lamb, or kid. 
With large wine-offerings pour'd, and sacred feast, 
Shall spend their days in joy unblamed, and dwell 
Long time in peace by families and tribes 
Under paternal rule ; till one shall rise 
Of proud ambitious heart, who not content 
With fair equality, fraternal state, 
Will arrogate dominion undeserved 
Over his brethren, and quite dispossess 
Concord and law of nature from the earth ; 
Hunting, and men not beasts shall be his game, 



* 



m 



^i^->:. 







PARADISE LOST. 



m 



h 





with war and hostile snare such as refuse 

Subjection to his empire tyrannous. 

A mighty hunter thence he shall be styled 

Before the Lord, as in despite of heav'n, 

Or from heav'n claiming second sov'reignty ; 

And from rebellion shall derive his name, 

Though of rebellion others he accuse. 

He with a crew, whom like ambition joins 

With him or under him to tyrannize, 

Marching from Eden towards the west, shall find 

The plain, wherein a black bituminous gurge 

Boils out from under ground, the mouth of hell : 

Of brick and of that stuff they cast to build 

A city and tow'r, whose top may reach to heav'n, 

And get themselves a name, lest far disperst 

In foreign lands their memory be lost, 

Regardless whether good or evil fame. 

But God, who oft descends to visit men 

Unseen, and through their habitations walks 

To mark their doings, them beholding soon, 

Comes down to see their city, ere the tower 

Obstruct Heav'n-tow'rs, and in derision sets 

Upon their tongues a various spirit, to rase 

Quite out their native language, and instead 

To sow a jangling noise of words unknown. 

Forthwith a hideous gabble rises loud 

Among the builders, each to other calls 

Not understood, till hoarse, and all in rage. 

As mock'd they storm ; great laughter was in heav'n, 

And looking down, to see the hubbub strange 

And hear the din ; thus was the building left 

Ridiculous, and the work Confusion named. 

Whereto thus Adam fatherly displeased. 
O execrable son ! so to aspire 
Above his brethren, to himself assuming 
Authority usurp'd, from God not giv'n. 
He gave us only over beast, fish, fowl, 
Dominion absolute ; that right we hold 
By His donation ; but man over men 
He made not lord ; such title to Himself 
Reserving, human left from human free. 
But this usurper his encroachment proud 
Stays not on man ; to God his tower intends 
Siege and defiance. Wretched man ! what food 
Will he convey up thither to sustain 
Himself and his rash army, where thin air 
Above the clouds will pine his entrails gross. 
And famish him of breath, if not of bread ? 

To whom thus Michael. Justly thou abhorr'st 
That son, who on the quiet state of men 



'■% 







PARADISE LOST. 213 

Such trouble brought, affecting to subdue 

Rational liberty ; yet know withal, 

Since thy original lapse, true liberty 

Is lost, which always with right reason dwells 

Twinn'd, and from her hath no dividual being : 

Reason in man obscured, or not obey'd, 

Immediately inordinate desires 

And upstart passions catch the government 

From reason, and to servitude reduce 

Man till then free. Therefore, since he permits 

Within himself unworthy powers to reign 

Over free reason, God in judgment just 

Subjects him from without to violent lords 

Who oft as undeservedly enthral 

His outward freedom. Tyranny must be, 

Though to the tyrant thereby no excuse. 

Yet sometimes nations will decline so low 

From virtue, which is reason, that no wrong, 

But justice, and some fatal ciirse annex'd, 

Deprives them of their outward liberty, 

Their inward lost : witness the irreverent son 

Of him who built the ark, who for the shame 

Done to his father, heard this heavy curse, 

Servant of servants, on his vicious race. 

Thus will this latter, as the former world. 

Still tend from bad to worse, till God at last, 

Wearied with their iniquities, withdraw 

His presence from among them, and avert 

His holy ej^es ; resolving from thenceforth 

To leave them to their own polluted ways ; 

And one peculiar nation to select 

From all the rest, of whom to be invoked, 

A nation from one faithful man to spring : 

Him on this side Euphrates yet residing 

Bred up in idol-worship, O that men. 

Canst thou believe ? should be so stupid grown. 

While yet the patriarch lived, who scaped the flood. 

As to forsake the living God, and fall 

To worship their own work in wood and stone 

For Gods ; yet him God the most high vouchsafes 

To call by vision from his father's house, 

His kindred, and false Gods, into a land 

Which he will show him, and from him will raise 

A mighty nation, and upon him show'r 

His benediction so, that in his seed 

All nations shall be bless'd ; he straight obeys. 

Not knowing to what land, 3^et firm believes. 

I see him, but thou canst not, with what faith 

He leaves his Gods, his friends, and native soil, 

Ur of Chaldaea, passing now the ford 



VSS'X^, -«3'^^^^>^' 




T" 



214 PARADISE LOST. 

To Haran, after him a cutnbroiis train 
Of herds, and flocks, and numerous servitude ; 
^ I jijil Not wand'ring poor, but trusting all his wealth 

|if\l'''* \ 1 1 "With God, who call'd him, in a land unknown. 

' Canaan he now attains, I see his tents 

iii|, Pitch'd about Secliem, and the neighboiiring plain 

■ ,' Of Moreh ; there by promise he receives 

Gift to his progeny of all that land ; 
From Hamath northward to the desert south, 
Things by their names I call, though yet unnamed, 
From Hermon east to the great western sea, 
! ' Mount Hermon, yonder sea, each place behold 

In prospect, as I point them ; on the shore 
Mount Carmel ; here the double-founted stream 
Jordan, true limit eastward ; but his sons 
J /.i i; 11 Shall dwell to Senir, that long ridge of hills. 

M ' "|l')! This ponder, that all nations of the earth 

i^i I Shall in his seed be blessed ; by that seed 

jK, Is meant thy great Deliverer, who shall bruise 

'W^ The serpent's head ; whereof to thee anon 

' Plainlier shall be reveal' d. This patriarch bless' d, 

' '« Whom faithful Abraham due time shall call, 

A son, and of his son a grandchild, leaves. 

Like him in faith, in wisdom, and renown. \ 

The grandchild, with twelve sons increased departs | 

From Canaan, to a land hereafter call'd ,j 

^gypt, divided by the river Nile ; I 

See where it flows, disgorging at seven mouths 
Into the sea. To sojourn in that land 
He comes, invited by a younger son 
i. In time of dearth ; a son, whose worthy deeds 

W^-" Raise him to be the second in that realm 

Of Pharaoh : there he dies, and leaves his race , 

Growing into a nation ; and now grown 

Suspected to a sequent king, who seeks 

To stop their overgrowth, as inmate guests 

Too numerous ; whence of guests he makes them slaves 

Inhospitably, and kills their infant males : 

Till by two brethren (those two brethren call 

Moses and Aaron), sent from God to claim 

His people from enthralment, they return 

With glory and spoil back to their promised land. 

But first the lawless tyrant, who denies 

To know their God, or message to regard. 

Must be compell'd by signs and judgments dire ; 

To blood unshed the rivers must be turn'd ; 

Frogs, lice, and flies, must all his palace fill 

With loath'd intrusion, and fill all the land ; 

His cattle must of rot and murrain die ; 

Blotches and blains must all his flesh imboss, 



m 




v'\- 



PARADISE LOST. 215 

And all his people ; thunder, mix'd with hail, 
Hail mix'd with fire, must rend the /Egyptian sk}-, 
A , I And wheel on th' earth, devouring where it rolls ; 

il'll i; ; ;, What it devours not, herb, or fruit, or grain, 

A darksome cloud of locusts swarming down 
ZMust eat, and on the ground leave nothing green : 
Darkness must overshadow all his bounds, 
Palpable darkness, and blot out three days ; 
Last with one midnight stroke all the first-born 
Of .ligj-pt must lie dead. Thus with ten wounds 
This river-dragon tamed at length submits 
To let his sojourners depart, and oft 
Humbles his stubborn heart ; but still as ice 
More harden'd after thaw, till, in his rage 
Pursuing whom he late dismiss' d, the sea 
Swallows him with his host, but them lets pass 
As on dry land between two crv'stal walls, 
Awed by the rod of Moses so to stand 
Divided, till his rescued gain their shore : 
Such wondrous power GoD to his saint will lend. 
Though present in His angel, who shall go 
Before them in a cloud, and pillar of fire. 
By day a cloud, by night a pillar of fire, 
To .guide them in their journey, and remove 
Behind them, while the obdurate king pursues : 

All night he will pursue, but his approach T 

Darkness defends between till morning watch ; , | 

Then through the fiery pillar and the cloud / 

God looking forth will trouble all his host. 
And craze their chariot wheels : when by commiand 
]\Ioses once more bis potent rod extends 
Over the sea ; the sea his rod obeys ; 
On their imbattled ranks the waves return. 
And overw'helm their war. The race elect 
Safe towards Canaan from the shore advance 
Through the wild Desert ; not the readiest way, ,. 

Lest ent'ring on the Canaanite alarm'd ^pg«Ei._- 

War terrify them inexpert, and fear ^^^^ ' ' 

Return them back to ^gypt, choosing rather ^ ' 

Inglorious life with servitude ; for life ,( 

To noble and ignoble is more sweet ' ' 

Untrain'd in arms, where rashness leads not on. 
This also shall they gain by their delay 
In the wide wilderness, there they shall found 
Their government, and their great senate choose 
Through the twelve tribes, to rule by laws ordain'd. 
God from the mount of Sinai, whSfee grey top 
Shall tremble, He descending, will Himself 
In thunder, lightning, and loud trumpets' sound 
Ordain them laws ; part, such as appertain _,;,■ 4^ 






'^^^^CMi^'^M^^ 




2l6 



PARADISE LOST, 




To civil justice ; part, religious rites 
Of sacrifice, informing them by types 
And shadows of that destined seed to bitiise 
The serpent, by what means He shall achieve 
Mankind's deliverance. But the voice of God 
To mortal ear is dreadful : they beseech 
That Moses might report to them His will 
And terror cease ; He grants what they besought, 
Instructed that to God is no access 
Without mediator, whose high office now 
Moses in figure bears, to introduce 
One greater, of whose day he shall foretel ; 
And all the prophets in their age the times 
Of great Messiah shall sing. Thus laws and rites 
Establish'd, such delight hath God in men 
Obedient to His will, that He vouchsafes 
Among them to set up His tabernacle. 
The Holy One with mortal men to dwell. 
By His prescript a sanctuary is framed 
Of cedar, overlaid vi-ith gold, therein 
An ark, and in the ark His testimony, 
The records of His cov'nant, over these 
A mercy-seat of gold between the wings 
Of two bright Cherubim ; before Him burn 
Seven lamps, as in a zodiac representing 
The heav'nly fires ; over the tent a cloud 
Shall rest by day, a fiery gleam by night. 
Save when they journey, and at length they come 
Conducted by His angel to the land 
Promised to Abraham and his seed. The rest 
Were long to tell, how many battles fought, 
How many kings destroy'd, and kingdoms won ; 
Or how the sun shall in mid heav'n stand still 
A day entire, and night's due course adjourn, 
Man's voice commanding, — Sun in Gibeon stand, 
And thou moon in the vale of Aialon, 
Till Israel overcome ;— so call the third 
From Abraham, son of Isaac, and from him 
His whole descent, who thus shall Canaan win. 
Here Adam interposed. O sent from heav'n, 
Enlightener of my darkness, gracious things 
Thou hast reveal'd, those chiefly which concern 
Just Abraham and his seed : now first I find 
Mine eyes true op'ning, and my heart much eased, 
Erewhile perplex' d with thoughts what would become 
Of me and all mankind ; but now I see 
His day, in whom all nations shall be bless'd ; 
Favoiir unmerited by me, who sought 
Forbidden knowledge by forbidden means. 
This yet I apprehend not, why to those 




^- 




PARADISE LOST. 

Among whom God •will deign to dwell on earth 

So many and so various laws are giv'n ; 

So many laws argue so many sins 

Among them ; how can God \n'Ca. such reside ? 

To whom thus Michael. Doubt not but that sin 
AVill reign among them, as of thee begot ; 
And therefore was law given them to evince 
Their natural pravity, by stirring up 
Sin against law to fight ; that when they see 
Law can discover sin, but not remove, 
Save by those shadowy expiations weak, 
The blood of bulls and goats, they may conclude 
Some blood more precious must be paid for man, 
Just for unjust, that in such righteousness 
To them by faith imputed they may find 
Justification towards God, and peace 
Of conscience, which the law by ceremonies 
Cannot appease, nor man the moral part 
Perform, and not performing cannot live. 
So law appears imperfect, and but giv'n 
With purpose to resign them in full time 
Up to a better covenant, disciplined 
From shadovv-y types to truth, from flesh to spirit, 
From imposition of strict laws to free 
Acceptance of large grace, from ser\ale fear 
To filial, works of law to works of faith. 
And therefore shall not Moses, though of God 
Highly beloved, being but the minister 
Of law, his people into Canaan lead ; 
But Joshua, whom the Gentiles Jesus call, 
His name and office bearing, who shall quell 
The adversary serpent, and bring back 
Through the world's wldemess long wander'd man 
Safe to eternal paradise of rest. 
IMeanwhile thej' in their earthly Canaan placed 
Long time shall dwell and prosper, but when sins 
National interrupt their public peace. 
Provoking God to raise them enemies, 
From whom as oft He saves them penitent. 
By judges first, then under kings ; of whom 
The second, both for piety renown'd 
And puissant deeds, a promise shall receive 
Irrevocable, that his regal throne 
For ever shall endure ; the like shall sing 
All prophesy, that of the royal stock 
Of I)a\'id, so I name this king, shall rise 
A son, the woman's seed to thee foretold, 
Foretold to Abraham, as in whom shall trust 
All nations, and to kings foretold, of kings 
The last, for of his reign shall be no end. 



^217 






-y.- 



ilSi^BSS^^^^^Sm'SSsSSB 



2lS 



PARADISE LOST. 






But first a long succession must ensue, 

And his next son, for wealth and wisdom famed, 

The clouded ark of God, till then in tents 

Wand'ring, shall in a glorious temple enshrine. 

Such follow him, as shall be register'd 

Part good, part bad, of bad the longer scroll ; 

Whose foul idolatries, and other faults 

Heap'd to the popular sum, will so incense 

God as to leave them, and expose their land, 

Their cit}-. His temple, and His Holy ark. 

With all His sacred things, a scorn and prey 

To that proud city, whose high walls thou saw'st 

Left in confusion, Babylon thence call'd. 

There in captivity He lets them dwell 

The space of seventy years, then brings them back, 

Rememb'ring mercy and His cov'naut sworn 

To David stablish'd as the days of heav'n. 

Retiu-n'd from Babylon by leave of kings 

Their lords, whom God disposed, the house of God 

They first re-edify, and for a while 

In mean estate live moderate, till grown 

In wealth and multitude, factious they grow : 

But first among the priests dissension springs. 

Men who attend the altar, and should most 

Endeavotu- peace : their strife pollution brings 

Upon the temple itself: at last they seize 

The sceptre, and regard not David's sons ; 

Then lose it to a stranger, that the true 

Anointed king Messiah might be born 

Barr'd of his right ; yet at his birth a star 

Unseen before in heav'n proclaims him come ; 

And guides the eastern sages, who inquire 

His place, to offer incense, myrrh, and gold : 

His place of birth a solemn angel tells 

To simple shepherds, keeping watch by night ; 

They gladly thither haste, and by a choir 

Of squadron'd angels hear his carol sung. 

A virgin is his mother, but his sire 

The power of the Most High ; he shall ascend 

The throne hereditary, and bound his reign 

With earth's wide bounds, his glory with the heav'ns. 

He ceased, discerning Adam vnth such joy 
Surcharged, as had like grief been dew'd in tears. 
Without the vent of words, which these he breathed. 

O prophet of glad tidings, finisher 
Of utmost hope ! now clear I understand 
What oft my steadiest thoughts have search'd in vain. 
Why our great expectation should be call'd 
The seed of woman : "Virgin Mother, hail. 
High in the love of heav'n, yet from my loins 



f 

\ 



PARADISE LOST. 219 

'', Thou slialt proceed, and from thy womb the Son 

,, Of God most high ; so God wnth man unites. 

'\ XAl'll % Needs must the serpent now his capital bruise 

fX ^i': ' !. Expect with mortal pain : say where and when 

Their fight, what stroke shall bruise the \nctor's heel. 
To whom thus Michael. Dream not of their fight, 
As of a duel, or the local wounds 
Of head or heel : not therefore joins the Son 
Manhood to Godhead, with more strength to foil 
Thy enemy ; nor so is overcome 
Satan, whose fall from heav'u, a deadlier bruise. 
Disabled not to give thee thy death's wound ; 
Which He, who comes thy Saviour, shall recure. 
Not by destroying Satan, but his works 
In thee and in thy seed : nor can this be, 
But by fulfilling that which thou didst want, 
Obedience to the law of God, imposed 
On penalty of death, and suffering death. 
The penalty to thy trangression due, 
And due to theirs "which out of thine will grow : 
So only can high justice rest appaid. 
The law of God exact He shall fulfil. 
Both by obedience and by love, though love 
Alone fulfil the law ; thy punishment 
He shall endure by coming in the flesh 
To a reproachful life and cursed death. 
Proclaiming life to all vvho shall believe 
In His redemption ; and that His obedience 
Imputed becomes theirs by faith ; His merits 

To save them, not their own, though legal, works. A 

_ For this He shall live hated, be blasphemed, M, 

W»^?^i*iM Seized on by force, judged, and to death condemn'd '| 

A shameful and accursed, nail'd to the cross ( 

By His own nation, slain for bringing life : 
But to the cross He nails thy enemies, _ 
The law that is against thee, and the sins 
Of all mankind, with Him there crucified, 
Never to hurt them more who rightly trust 
In this His satisfaction : so He dies. 
But soon revives, death over Him no power 
Shall long usurp ; ere the third dawning light 
Return, the stars of morn shall see Him rise 
Out of His grave, fresh as the dawning light, 
Thy ransom paid, which man from death redeems. 
His death for man, as many as offer'd life 
Neglect not, and the benefit embrace 
By faith not void of works. This godlike act 
Annuls thy doom, the death thou shouldst have died, 
In sin for ever lost from life ; this act 
Shall bruise the head of Satan, crush his strength, 





220 PARADISE LOST. 

Defeating sin and death, his two main arms, 
And fix far deeper in his head their stings, 
\A \ ^ / Than tempoi'al death shall bruise the victor's heel, 

,|'\ll I \ ' \ ■! .; ' ' Or theirs whom He redeems, a death, like sleep, 

f'"' , A gentle wafting to immortal life. 

I ; Nor after resurrection shall He stay 

|v, \ '■''' Ivonger on earth than certain tiines to appear 

i| To His disciples, men who in His life 

^1?* Still'follow'd Him ; to them shall leave in charge 

To teach all nations what of Him they learn'd 
And His salvation ; them who shall believe 
Baptizing in the profluent stream, the sign 
Of washing them from guilt of sin to life . : 

Pure, and in mind prepared, if so befall, i 

J-| For death, like that which the redeemer died. '' 

/■ All ijations they shall teach ; for from that day ''[■ 

Not only to the sons of Abraham's loins 
Salvation shall be preach'd, but to the sons 
Of Abraham's faith wherever through the world ; 
So in his seed all nations shall be bless'd. 
Then to the heav'n of heav'ns He shall ascend 
;\ With victory, triumphing through the air 

jl; ' Over His foes and thine ; there shall surprise 

,M The serpent, prince of air, and drag in chains ' 

i| I Through all his realm, and there confounded leave ; , . 

liiji ll' Then enter into glory, and resume ]/ 

;''' His seat at God's right hand, exalted high i 

Above all names in heav'n ; and thence shall come, ' 

When this world's dissolution shall be ripe, 
With glory and power to judge both quick and dead, 
To judge th' unfaithful dead, but to reward 

His faithful, and receive them into bliss, t*i in 

,^^ Whether in heav'n or earth ; for then the earth Mli, | 

-1 Shall all be paradise, far happier place \^\ 

Than this of Eden, and far happier days. 

So spake th' Archangel Michael: then paused, 
As at the world's great period ; and our sire 
Replete with joy and wonder thus replied. 
O goodness infinite, goodness immense ! 
That all this good of evil shall produce. 
And -evil turn to good; more wonderful 
Than that which by creation first brought forth 
Light out of darkness ! full of doubt I stand, 
i, Whether I should repent me now of sin 

"'- By me done and occasion'd, or rejoice 

/'//J Much more, that much more good thereof shall spring. 

'( %:, To God more glory, more good will to men 

' From God, and over wrath grace shall abound. 

But say, if our Deliverer up to heav'n 
Must reasceud, what will betide the few 



,^^-o 





PARADISE LOST. 



221 



rn^'m 



« 



if" 



\a,t^^- 




His faithful, left among th' unfaithful herd, 
The enemies of truth ? who then shall guide 
His people, who defend ? will they not deal 
Worse with His followers than with Him they dealt ? 
Be sure they will, said th' angel ; but from heav'n 
He to His own a Comforter will send, 
The promise of the Father, who shall dwell 
His spirit within them, and the law of faith 
Working through love upon their hearts shall write, 
To guide them in all truth, and also arm 
With spiritual armour, able to resist 
Satan's assaults, and quench his fiery darts. 
What man can do against them, not afraid, 
Though to the death, against such crtielties 
With inward consolations recompensed. 
And oft supported so as shall amaze 
Their proudest persecutors : for the Spirit 
Pour'd first on his apostles, whom he sends 
To evangelize the nations, then on all 
Baptized, shall them with wondrous gifts indue, 
To speak all tongues, and do all rniracles. 
As did their Lord "before them. Thus they win 
Great numbers of each nation to receive 
With joy the tidings brought from heav'n : at length 
Their ministry perform' d, and race well run, 
Their doctrine and their story written left. 
They die ; but in their room, as they forewarn, 
WolVes shall succeed for teachers, grievous wolves, 
Who all the sacred mysteries of heav'n 
To their own vile advantages shall turn 
Of lucre and ambition, and the truth 
With superstitions and traditions taint. 
Left only in those written records pure. 
Though not but by the Spirit understood. 
Then shall they seek to avail themselves of names. 
Places, and titles, and with these to join 
Secular power, though feigning still to act 
By spiritual, to themselves appropriating 
The Spirit of God, promised alike and giv'n 
To all believers ; and from that pretence 
Spiritual laws b}^ carnal powers shall force 
On every conscience ; laws which none shall find 
Left them inroll'd, or what the Spirit within 
Shall on the heart engrave. What will they then 
But force the Spirit of Grace itself, and bind 
His consort Liberty ? what, but unbuild 
His living temples^ built by faith to stand, 
Their own faith, not another's? for on earth 
\\Tio against faith and conscience can be heard 
Infallible ? yet many will presume : 



W^ 







XP, 




PARADISE LOST. 



Wheuce heavy persecutiou shall arise 

On all who in the worship persevere 

Of spirit and truth ; the rest, far greater part, 

Will deem in outward rites and specious forms 

Religion satisfied ; truth shall retire 

Bestuck with slanderous darts, and works of faith 

Rarely be found : so shall the world go on. 

To good malignant, to bad men benign. 

Under her own weight groaning till the day 

Appear of respiration to the just. 

And vengeance to the wicked, at return 

Of Him so lately promised to thy aid. 

The woman's seed, obscurely then foretold, 

Now amplier known thy Saviour and thy Lord, 

Last in the clouds from heav'n to be reveal'd 

In glory of the Father, to dissolve 

Satan with his perverted world, then raise 

From the conflagrant mass, purged and refined, 

New heav'ns, new earth, ages of endless date 

Founded in righteousness, and peace, and love, 

To bring forth fruits, joy and eternal bliss. 

He ended ; and thus Adam last replied. 
How soon hath thy prediction. Seer bless'd, 
Measured this transient world, the race of time, 
Till time stand fix'd ! beyond is all abyss, 
Eternity, whose end no eye can reach : 
Greatly instructed I shall hence depart. 
Greatly in peace of thought, and have my fill 
Of knowledge, what this vessel can contain ; 
Beyond which was my folly to aspire. 
Henceforth I learn that to obey is best, 

I And love with fear the only God, to walk 
As in His presence, ever to observe 

i His providence, and on Him sole depend, 
Merciful over all His works, with good 
Still overcoming evil ; and by small 
Accomplishing great things, by things deem'd weak 
Subverting worldly strong, and worldly wise 
By simply meek ; that suffering for truth's sake 
Is fortitude to highest victory, 
And to the faithful death the gate of life ; 
Taught this by His example, whom I now 
Acknowledge my Redeemer ever bless'd. 

To whom thus also th' angel last replied. 
This having learn'd, thou hast attain'd the sum 
Of wisdom ; hope no higher, though all the stars 
Thou knew' St by name, and all th' ethereal powers. 
All secrets of the deep, all nature's works. 
Or works of God in heav'n, air, earth, or sea. 
And all the riches of this world enjoy'dst, 




1*^.^^. -rt 




PARADISE LOST. 223 

And all the rule, one empire ; onl}^ add 

Deeds to thy knowledge answerable, add faith. 

Add virtue, patience, temperance, add love. 

By name to come call'd charity, the soul 

Of all the rest ; then wilt thou not be lot!i 

To leave this paradise, but shalt possess 

A paradise within thee, happier far. 

Let us descend now, therefore, from this top 

Of speculation ; for the hour precise 

Exacts our parting hence; and see the guards. 

By me encamp'd on yonder hill, expect 

Their motion, at whose front a flaming sword, 

In signal of remove, waves fiercely round ; | 

We may no longer stay : go, .waken Eve ; ] 

Her also I with gentle dreams have calm'd f I 

Portending good, and all her spirits composed ,1 

To meek submission : thou at season fit ■ 

Let her with thee partake what thou hast heard, 

Chiefly what may concern her faith to know. 

The great deliverance by her seed to come, ' 

For by the woman's seed, on all mankind. '', 

That ye may live, which will be many days, 

Both in one faith unanimous, though sad 

With cause for evils past ; yet much more cheer'd ' 

With meditation on the happy end. 

He ended, and they both descend the hill : j/,» J 

Descended, Adam to the bower, where Eve '(// 

Lay sleeping, ran before, but found her waked ; >H j 

And thus with words not sad she him received. ''' i 

Whence thou return'st, and whither went'st, I know ; ' 

For God is also in sleep, and dreams advise, '( 

Which_ He hath sent propitious, some great good , 

Presaging, since with sorrow and heart's distress ;,, 

Wearied I fell asleep : but now lead on ; 'j 

In me is no delay ; with thee to go 

Is to stay here ; without thee here to staj' I 

Is to go hence unwilling ; thou to me .^^^^M^^YVI 1 

Art all things under heav'n, all places thou, ^^^^HBkHilw ' 

Who for my wilful crime art banish'd hence. '"^ 

This further consolation yet secure 
I carry hence ; though all by me is lost. 
Such favour I unworthy am vouchsafed, 
By me the Promised Seed shall all restore. 

So spake our mother Eve, and Adam heard 
W^ell pleased, but answer'd not ; for now too nigh 
Th' Archangel stood, and from the other hill 
To their fix'd station all in bright array 
The Cherubim descended ; on the ground 
Gilding meteorous, as even'ng mist 
Ris'n from a river o'er the niarish srii-ies. 



C3 




224 



PARADISE LOST. 




And gathers ground fast at the labourer's heel 

Homeward returning. High in front advanced 

The brandish'd sword of God before them blazed 

Fierce as a comet ; which with torrid heat, 

And vapour as the L,ibyan air adust, 

Began to parch that temperate clime : whereat 

In either hand the hast'ning angel caught 

Our ling'ring parents, and to the eastern gate 

Led them direct, and down the cliff as fast 

To the subjected plain ; then disappear' d. 

They looking back all th' eastern side beheld 

Of Paradise, so late their happy seat, 

Waved over by that flaming brand, the gate 

With dreadful faces throng' d and fiery arms : 

Some natural tears they dropp'd, but wiped them soon ; 

The world was all before them, where to choose 

Their place of rest, and Providence their guide. 

They, hand in hand with wand'ring steps and slow, 

Through Eden took their solitary way. 



r 
It 



•^. 





^^i-^^^S;^' ■0 ^i^ 









paraMiJC IRctjaincb. 

BOOK I. 



i!^ 



I, WHO erewhile the happy garden sung, 
By one man's disobedience lost, now sing 
Recover' d Paradise to all mankind, 
By one man's firm obedience fully tried 
Through all temptation, and the tempter foil'd 
In all his wiles, defeated, and repulsed, 
And Eden raised in the waste wilderness. 
Thou Spirit, who led'st this glorious Eremite 
Into the desert, His victorious field. 
Against the spiritual foe, and brought'st Him thence 
B}- proof the undoubted Son of God, inspire, 
As thou art wont, my prompted song, else mute. 
And bear through highth or depth of nature's bounds 
With prosperous wing full summ'd to tell of deeds 
Above heroic, though in secret done. 
And unrecorded left through many an age. 
Worthy t' have not remain'd so long unsung. 
Now had the great Proclaimer, with a voice 
More awful than the sound of trumpet, cried 
Repentance, and heaven's kingdom nigh at hand 
To all baptized : to his great baptism flock' d 
With awe the regions round, and with them came 
From Nazareth the Son of Joseph deem'd 
To the flood Jordan, came, as then obscure, 
Unmark'd, unknown ; but Him the Baptist soon 
Descried, divinely warn'd, and witness bore 
As to his worthier, and would have resign'd 
To him his heavenly office, nor was long 
His witness unconfirm'd : on Him baptized 
Heav'n open'd, and in likeness of a dove 
The Spirit descended, while the Father's voice 
From heav'n pronounced Him His beloved Son. 
That heard the adversary, who, roving still 
About the world, at that assembly famed 
Would not be last, and, with the voice di\'ine 
Nigh thunder-struck, th' exalted Jlan, to whom 





PARADISE REGAINED. 



W \ \ 



\Hl I 



1 t 






Such high attest was giv'n, a while sur\'e}^'d 
With wonder, then, with envy fraught and rage, 
Flies to his place, nor rests, but in mid air 
To council summons all his mighty peers. 
Within thick clouds and dark ten-fold involved, 
A gloomy consistory ; and them amidst 
With looks aghast and sad he thus bespake. 

O ancient Powers of air and this wide world, 
For much more willingly I mention air, 
This our old conquest, than remember Hell, 
Our hated habitation ; well ye know 
How many ages, as the j^ears of men, 
This universe we have possest, and ruled 
In manner at our will th' affairs of earth, 
Since Adam and his facile consort Eve 
Lost Paradise deceived by me, though since 
With dread attending when that fatal wound 
Shall be inflicted by the seed of Eve 
Upon my head ; long the decrees of heav'n 
Delay, for longest time to Him is short ; 
And now too soon for us the circling hours 
This dreaded time have compast, wherein we 
Must bide the stroke of that long threaten'd wound, 
At least if so we can, and by the head 
Broken be not intended all our power 
To be infringed, our freedom, and oiir being. 
In this fair empire won of earth and air : 
For this ill news I bring, the woman's seed, 
Destined to this, is late of woman born ; 
His birth to our just fear gave no small cause, 
But his growth now to youth's full flow'r, displaying 
All virtue, grace, and wisdom to achieve 
Things highest, greatest, multiplies my fear. 
Before him a great prophet to proclaim 
His coming is sent harbinger, who all 
Invites, and in the consecrated stream 
Pretends to wash off sin, and fit them so 
Purified to receive Him pure, or rather 
To do Him honour as their king : all come, 
And He Himself among them was baptized. 
Not thence to be more pure, but to receive 
The testimony of heav'n, that who He is 
Thenceforth the nations may not doubt. _ I saw 
The prophet do him reverence, on Him rising 
Out of the water, heav'n above the clouds 
Unfold her crystal doors, thence on His head 
A perfect dove descend, whate'er it meant, 
And out of heav'n the sovereign voice I hear, 
— This is my Son beloved, in Him am pleased. 
His mother then is mortal, but His sire 





^ 



\te 



■ir 







I ie<^ 



Sfc^> 




PARADISE REGAINED. 

He who obtains the monarchy of heav'n ; 

And what will He not do to advance His Son ? 

His first-begot we know, and sore have felt, 

When His fierce thunder drove us to the deep ; 

Who this is we must learn, for man He seems 

In all His lineaments, though in his face 

The glimpses of His Father's glory shine. 

Ye see our danger on the utmost edge 

Of hazard, which admits no long debate, 

But must with something sudden be opposed. 

Not force, but well-couch'd fraud, well-woven snares, 

Ere in the head of nations He appear 

Their king, their leader, and supreme on earth. 

I, when no other durst, sole undertook 

The dismal expedition to find out 

And ruin Adam, and the exploit perform'd 

Successfully ; a calmer voyage now 

Will waft me ; and the way found prosp'rous once 

Induces best to hope of like success. 

He ended, and his words impression left 
Of much amazement to th' infernal crew, 
Distracted and surprised with deep disma}- 
At these sad tidings ; but no time was then 
For long indulgence to their fears or grief. 
Unanimous the}' all commit the care 
And management of this main enterprise 
To him their great dictator, whose attempt 
At first against mankind so well had thrived 
In Adam's overthrow, and led their miarch 
From hell's deep-vaulted den to dwell in light. 
Regents, and potentates, and kings, yea gods 
Of many a pleasant realm and province wide. 
So to the coast of Jordan he directs 
His easy steps, girded with snaky wiles. 
Where he might likeliest find this new-declared. 
This man of men, attested Son of God, 
Temptation and all guile on Him to try ; 
So to subvert whom he suspected raised 
To end his reign on earth so long enjoy'd : 
But contrary unweeting he fulfiU'd 
The purposed counsel pre-ordain'd and fix'd 
Of the most High, who, in full frequence bright 
Of angels, thus to Gabriel smiling spake. 

Gabriel, this day by proof thou shalt behold. 
Thou and all angels conversant on earth 
With man or men's affairs, how I begin 
To verify that solemn message late, 
On which I sent thee to the virgin pure 
In Galilee, that she should bear a son 
Great in renown, and call'd the Son of God ; 



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PARADISE REGAINED. 




Thou told'st her, doubting how these things could be 

To her a virgin, that on her should come 

The Holy Ghost, and the power of the Highest 

O'ershadow her : this man born, and now up-grown, 

To show him worthy of his birth divine 

And high prediction, henceforth I expose 

To Satan ; let him tempt and now assay 

His utmost subtlety, because he boasts 

And vaunts of his great cunning to the throng 

Of his apostasy ; he might have learnt 

Less overweening, since he fail'd in Job, 

Whose constant perseverance overcame 

Whate'er his cruel malice could invent. 

He now shall know I can produce a man 

Of female seed, far abler to resist 

All his solicitations, and at length 

All his vast force, and drive him back to hell, 

Winning by conquest what the first man lost 

By fallacy surprised. But first I mean 

To exercise him in the wilderness ; 

There he shall first lay down the rudiments 

Of his great warfare, ere I send him forth 

To conquer sin and death, the two grand foes 

By humiliation and strong sufferance. 

His weakness shall o'ercome Satanic strength, 

And all the world, and mass of sinful flesh ; 

That all the angels and ethereal powers, 

They now, and men hereafter, may discern, 

From what consummate virtue I have chose 

This perfect man, by merit call'd my son, 

To earn salvation for tlie sons of men. 

So spake th' eternal Father, and all heav'n 
Admiring stood a space, then into hymns 
Burst forth, and in celestial measures moved. 
Circling the throne and singing, while the hand 
Sung with the voice, and this the argument. 

Victory and triumph to the Son of God, 
Now ent'ring his great duel, not of arms, 
But to vanquish by wisdom hellish wiles. 
The Father knows the Son ; therefore secure 
Ventures His filial virtue, though untried, 
Against whate'er may tempt, whate'er seduce, 
Allure, or terrify, or undermine. 
Be frustrate all ye stratagems of hell, 
And devilish machinations come to nought. 

So they in heav'n their odes and vigils tuned : 
Meanwhile the Son of God, who yet some days 
Lodg'd in Bethabara where John baptized, 
Musing and much revoking in his breast. 
How best the mighty -u ork lie might begin 



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''High are thv lii^.w^/its 
O son, but noufish t/iem."— Page 5. 



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11 



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PARADISE REGAINED. 

Of Saviour to mankind, and which way first 

Publish his god-like office now mature, 

One day forth walk'd alone, the Spirit leading, 

And his deep thoughts, the better to converse 

With solitude, till far from track of men. 

Thought following thought, and step by step led on, 

He enter'd now the bordering desert wild, 

And, with dark shades and rocks environ 'd round, 

His holy meditations thus pursued. 

O what a multitude of thoughts at once 
Awaken'd in me swarm, while I consider 
What from within I feel myself, and hear 
What from without comes often to va.y ears, 
111 sorting with my present state compared. 
When I was yet a child, no childish play 
To me was pleasing, all my mind was set 
Serious to learn and know, and thence to do 
WTiat might be public good ; myself I thought 
Bom to that end, born to promote all truth. 
All righteous things : therefore, above my years, 
The law of GoD I read, and found it sweet, 
Made it my whole delight, and in it grew 
To such perfection, that, ere yet my age 
Had measured twice six years, at our great feast 
I went into the temple, there to hear 
The teachers of our law, and to propose 
What might improve my knowledge or their own. 
And was admired by all ; yet this not all 
To which my spirit aspired, victorious deeds 
Plamed in my heart, heroic acts ; one while 
To rescue Israel from the Roman yoke, 
Then to subdue and quell o'er all the earth 
Brute violence and proud tyrannic pow'r, 
Till truth were freed, arid equity restored : 
Yet held it more humane, more'heav'nly, first 
By winning words to conquer willing hearts, 
And make persuasion do the work of fear ; 
At least to trj-, and teach the erring soul. 
Not wilfully misdoing, but unware 
Misled ; the stubborn only to subdue. 
These growing thoughts my Mother soon perceiving 
By words at times cast forth, inly rejoiced. 
And said to me apart. High are thy thoughts 
O son, but nourish them, and let them soar 
To what highth sacred virtue and true worth 
Can raise them, though above example high ; 
By matchless deeds express thy matchless Sire. 
For know, thou art no son of mortal man. 
Though men esteem thee low of parentage. 
Thy father is the eternal King who rules 



;4- 





PARADISE REGAINED. 



^W'\ ^ 



Su^- 




All heav'n and earth, angels and sons of men : 

A messenger from God foretold thy birth 

Conceived in me a virgin ; he foretold 

Thou should'st be great, and sit on David's throne, 

And of thy kingdom there should be no end. 

At thy nativity a glorious quire 

Of angels in the fields of Bethlehem sung 

To shepherds watching at their folds by night. 

And told them the Messiah now was born, 

Where they might see him ; and to thee they came, 

Directed to the manger where thou lay'st, 

For in the inn was left no better room. 

A star, not seen before, in heav'n appearing 

Guided the wise men thither from the east. 

To honor thee with incense, myrrh, and gold, 

By whose bright course led on they found the place. 

Affirming it thy star new grav'n in heav'n. 

By which they knew the king of Israel born. 

Just Simeon and prophetic Anna, warn'd 

By vision, found thee in the temple, and spake, 

Before the altar and the vested Priest, 

Like things of thee to all that present stood. 

This having heard, straight I again revolved 

The law and prophets, searching what was writ 

Concerning the Messiah, to our scribes 

Known partly, and soon found of whom they spake 

I am ; this chiefly, that my way must lie 

Through many a hard assay, even to the death. 

Ere I the promised kingdom can attain, 

Or work redemption for mankind, whose sins 

Full weight must be transferr'd upon va.y head. 

Yet, neither thus dishearten'd or dismay'd, 

The time prefixt I waited, when, behold ! 

The Baptist, of whose birth I oft had heard. 

Not knew by sight, now come, who was to come 

Before Messiah and his way prepare. 

I, as all others, to his baptism came. 

Which I believed was from above ; but he 

Straight knew me, and with loudest voice proclaim'd 

Me Him, for it was shown him so from heav'n. 

Me Him whose harbinger he was ; and first 

Refused on me his baptism to confer. 

As much his greater, and was hardly won : 

But as I rose out of the laving stream. 

Heaven open'd her eternal doors, from whence 

The Spirit descended on me like a dove ; 

And last, the sum of all, my Father's voice. 

Audibly heard from heav'n, pronounced me His. 

Me His beloved Son, in whom alone 

He was well pleased ; by which I knew the time 






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PARADISE REGAINED. 

Now full, that I no more should live obscure, 
But openly begin, as best becomes 
, , , The authority which I derived from heav'n. 

A ^'\, I ; And now by some strong motion I am led 

l I j'li' ' " Into this wilderness, to what intent 

, ' f \; ' I learn not yet, perhaps, I need not know ; 

W ^ ^ For what concerns my knowledge God reveals. 

So spake our Morning Star, then in his rise, 
And looking round on every side beheld 
A pathless desert, dusk with horrid shades ; 
'■, The way he came not having mark'd, return 

I- Was difficult, by human steps untrod ; 

I, And he still on was led, but with such thoughts 

s ' Accompanied of things past and to come 

Lodged in his breast, as well might recommend 
Such solitude before choicest society. 
f ii [}'':! J I, I Full forty days he pass'd, whether on hill 

j^^ !-' p' '{'''• Sometimes, anon in shady vale, each night 

Under the covert of some ancient oak 
Or cedar to defend him from the dew. 
Or harbour'd in one cave, is not reveal'd; 
Nor tasted human food, nor hunger felt 
Till those days ended, hunger'd then at last 
l||i. Among wild beasts : they at his sight grew mild, 

'! Nor sleeping him nor waking harm'd ; his walk 

The fiery serpent fled and noxious worm. 
The lion and fierce tiger glared aloof. 
But now an aged man in rural weeds, 
Following, as seem'd, the quest of some stray ewe, 
Or wither' d sticks to gather, which might serve 
Against a winter's day, when winds blow keen, 
To warm him wet return'd from field at eve. 
He saw approach, who first with curious eye 
c Perused him, then with words thus utter'd spake. 

Sir, what ill chance hath brought thee to this place 
So far from path or road of men, who pass 
In troop or caravan, for single none 
Durst ever, who return'd, and dropp'd not here 
His carcass, pined with hunger and with drought. 
I ask the rather, and the more admire. 
For that to me thou seem'st the man whoni late 
Our new baptizing prophet at the ford 
Of Jordan honour' d so, and call'd thee Son 
Of God ; I saw and heard, for we sometimes. 
Who dwell this wild, constrain'd by want, come forth 
To town or village nigh, (nighest is far,) 
Where aught we hear, and curious are to hear, 
What happens new ; fame also finds us out. 

To whom the Son of God. Who brought me hither 
Will bring me hence ; no other guide I seek. 







PARADISE REGAINED. 




1 T 





By miracle he may, replied the swain, 
What other way I see not, for M'e here 
I/ive on tough roots and stubs, to thirst inured 
More than the camel, and to drink go far. 
Men to much misery and hardship born. 
But if thou be the Son of God, command 
That out of these hard stones be made thee bread, 
So shalt thou save th3-self and us relieve 
With food, whereof we wretched seldom taste. 

He ended, and the Son of God replied. 
Thiuk'st thou such force in bread? is it not written, 
For I discern thee other than thou seem'st, 
Man lives not by bread only, but each word 
Proceeding from the mouth of God, who fed 
Our fathers here with Manna ? in the mount 
Moses was forty days, nor eat, nor drank ? 
And forty days Elijah without food 
Wander'd this barren waste, the same I now. 
Why dost thou then suggest to me distrust, 
Knowing who I am, as I know who thou art ? 

Whom thus answer'd th' arch fiend now undisguised. 
'Tis true, I am that spirit unfortunate. 
Who leagued with millions more in rash revolt, 
Kept not my happy station, but was driv'n 
With them from bliss to the bottomless deep ; 
Yet to that hideous plape not so confined 
By rigour uncouni\-ing, but that oft, 
Lea\aug my dolorous prison I enjoy 
Large liberty, to round this globe of earth, 
Or range in the air, nor from the heav'n of heav'ns 
Hath He excluded my resort sometimes. 
I came among tlie sons of God, when He 
Gave up into my hands Uzzean Job 
To prove him, and illustrate his high worth ; 
And when to all His angels he proposed 
To draw the proud king Ahab into fraud. 
That he might fall in Ramoth, they demurring, 
I undertook that office, and the tongues 
Of ail his flattering prophets glibb'd with lies 
To his destruction, as I had in charge ; 
For what He bids T do. Though I have lost 
Much lustre of my native brightness, lost 
To be beloved of God, I have not lost 
To love, at least contemplate and admire. 
What I see excellent in good, or fair. 
Or virtuoiis ; I should so have lost all sense. 
What can be then less in me than desire 
To see thee and approach thee, whom I know 
Declared the Son of God, to hear attent 
Thy wisdom, and behold thy god-like deeds ? 





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PARADISE REGAINED. 



Men generally think me much a foe 

To all mankind : why should I ? they to me 

Never did wrong or violence, by them 

I lost not what I lost, rather by them 

I gam'd what I have gain'd, and with them dwell, 

Copartner in these regions of the world, 

If not disposer ; lend them oft my aid, 

Oft my advice by presages, and signs. 

And answers, oracles, portents, and dreams, 

Whereby they may direct their future life. 

Envy they say excites me thus to gain 

Companions of my misery and woe. 

At first it may be ; but long since with woe, 

Nearer acquainted, now I feel by proof. 

That fellowship in pain divides not smart, 

Nor lightens aught each man's peculiar load. 

Small consolation then, were man adjoin'd : 

This wounds me most, what can it less ? that man, 

Man fall'n shall be restored. I never more. 

To whom our Saviour sternly thus replied. 
Deservedly thou griev'st, composed of lies 
From the beginning, and in lies wilt end. 
Who boasts release from hell, and leave to come 
Into the Heav'n of Heav'ns. Thou com'st indeed, 
As a poor miserable captive thrall 
Comes to the place where he before had sat 
Among the prime in splendour, now deposed. 
Ejected, emptied, gazed, unpitied, shunn'd, 
A spectacle of ruin or of scorn 
To all the host of heav'n. The happy place 
Imports to thee no happiness, no joy. 
Rather inflames thy torment, representing 
Lost bliss to thee no more communicable. 
So never more in hell than when in heav'n. 
But thou art serviceable to heav'n's King. 
Wilt thou impute t' obedience what thy fear 
Extorts, or pleasure to do ill excites ? 
What but thy malice moved thee to misdeem 
Of righteous Job, then cruelly to afflict him 
With all inflictions? but his patience won. 
The other service was thy chosen task,. 
To be a liar in four hundred mouths ; 
For lying is thy sustenance, thy food. 
Yet thou pretend'st to truth ; all oracles 
B}' thee are giv'n, and what confest more true 
Among the nations? that hath been thy craft. 
By mixing somewhat true to vent more lies. 
But what have been thy answers? what but dark, 
Ambiguous, and with double sense deluding. 
Which they who ask'd have seldom understood. 



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PARADISE REGAINED. 



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And not well understood as good not known ? 

Who ever by consulting at thy shrnie 

Return'd the wiser, or the more instruct 

To fly or follow what concern'd him most, 

And run not sooner to his fatal snare ? 

For God hath justly given the nations up 

To thy delusions ; justly, since they fell 

Idolatrous But when His purpose is 

Among them to declare His pro\adence 

To thee not known, whence hast thou then thy truth, 

But from Him or His angels president 

In ev'ry province? who, themselves disdaining 

T' approach thy temples, give thee in command 

WTiat to the smallest tittle thou shalt say 

To thy adorers ; thou with trembling fear, 

Or like a fawning parasite, obey'st ; 

Then to thyself ascrib'st the truth foretold. 

But this thy glory shall be soon retrencU'd ; 

No more shalt thou by oracling abuse 

The Gentiles ; henceforth oracles are ceased. 

And thou no more with pomp and sacrifice 

Shalt be inquired at Delphos or elsewhere. 

At least in vain, for they shall find thee mute. 

God hath now sent his living oracle 

Into the world to teach his final will. 

And sends his Spirit of Truth henceforth to dwell 

In pious hearts, and inward oracle 

To all truth requisite for men to know. 

So spake our Saviour ; but the subtle fiend, 
Though inly stung with anger and disdain, 
Dissembled, and this answer smooth return'd. 

Sharply thou hast insisted on rebuke. 
And urged me hard with doings, which not will 
But misery, hath wrested from me ; where 
Easily canst thou find one miserable. 
And not enforced ofttimes to part from truth ; 
If it may stand him more in stead to lie, 
Say and unsay, feign, flatter, or abjure? 
But thou art placed above me, thou art Lord ; 
From thee I can, and must, subiniss endure 
Check or reproof, and glad to escape so quit. 
Hard are the ways of truth, and rough to walk, 
Smooth on the tongue discoursed, pleasing to th' ear 
And tuneable as sylvan pipe or song ; 
What wonder then if I delight to hear 
Her dictates from thy mouth ? most men admire 
Virtue, who follow not her lore : permit me 
To hear thee when I come, since no man comes. 
And talk at least, though I despair to attain. 
Thy Father, who is holy, wse, and pure, 






,HI'' 






PARADISE REGAINED. 

Suffers the hypocrite or atheous priest 
To tread his sacred courts, and minister 
About his altar, handUng holy things, 
Praying or vowing, and vouchsafed his voice 
To Balaam reprobate, a prophet yet 
Inspired ; disdain not such access to me. 

To whom our Saviour with unalter'd brow. 
Thy coming hither, thovigh I know thy scope, 
I bid not or forbid : do as thou find'st 
Permission from above ; thou canst not more. 

He added not ; and Satan, bowing low 
His grey dissimulation, disappeared 
Into thin air diffused : for now began 
Night with her sullen wings to double-shade 
The desert ; fowls in their clay nests were couch'd ; 
And now wild beasts came forth the woods to roam. 



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III , \'\'t 



PARADISE REGAINED. 



BOOK II. 





It 
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Meanwhile the new-baptized, who yet remain'd 

At Jordan with the Baptist, and had seen 

Him whom they heard so late expressly call'd 

Jesus, Messiah, Son of God declared, 

And on that high authority had believed, 

And with him talk'd, and with him lodged, I mean 

Andrew and Simon, famous after known, 

With others though in holy writ not named. 

Now missing him their joy so lately found, 

vSo lately found, and so abruptly gone. 

Began to doubt, and doubted many days. 

And, as the days increased, increased their doubt. 

Sometimes they thought he might be only shown. 

And for a time caught up to God, as once 

Moses was in the Mount, and missing long ; 

And the great Thisbite, who on fiery wheels 

Rode up to heav'n, yet once again to come. 

Therefore as those young prophets then with care 

Sought lost Elijah, so in each place these 

Nigh to Bethabara ; in Jericho 

The city of palms^ .^non, and Salem old. 

Machaerus, and each town or city wall'd 

On this side the broad lake Genezaret, 

Or in Peraea ; but return'd in vain. 

Then on the bank of Jordan, by a creek. 

Where winds with reeds and osiers whisp'ring play. 

Plain fishermen, no greater men them call, 

Close in a cottage low together got. 

Their unexpected loss and plaints outbreathed. 

Alas, from what high hope to what relapse 

Unlook'd for are wefall'n ! our ejes beheld 

Messiah certainly now come, so long 

Expected of our fathers ; we have heard 

His words, his wisdom fi:ll of grace and truth : 

Now, now, for sure, deliverance is at hand, 

The kingdom shall to Israel be restored : 

Thus we rejoiced, but soon our joy is turn'd 

Into perplexity and new amaze : 

For whither is he gone, what accident 

Hath wrapt him from us ? will he now retire 

After appearance, and again prolong 

Our expectation ? God of Israel, 

Send thy Messiah forth, the time is come. 




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13 



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Behold the kings of the earth how they oppress 

Thy chosen, to what highth their power unjust 

They have exalted, and behind them cast 

All fear of thee. Arise and vindicate 

Thy glory, free thy people from their yoke. 

But let us -wait ; thus far He hath perform'd, 

Sent His Anointed, and to us reveal'd him, 

By His great prophet, pointed at and shown 

In public, and with him we have conversed ; 

Let us be glad of this, and all our fears 

Laj^ on His providence ; He will not fail, 

Nor will withdraw him now, nor will recall. 

Mock us with his blest sight, then snatch him hence ; 

Soon we shall see our hope, our joy return. 

Thus they out of their plaints new hope resume 
To find whom at the first they found unsought : 
But to his mother Mary, when she saw 
Others return'd from baptism, not her Son, 
Nor left at Jordan, tidings of him none. 
Within her breast though calm, her breast though pure, 
Motherl}^ cares and fears got head, and raised 
Some troubled thoughts, which she in sighs thus clad. 

O what avails me now that honor high 
To have conceived of God, or that salute. 
Hail, highly favour'd, among women blest ! 
While I to sorrows am no less advanced. 
And fears as eminent, above the lot 
Of other women, by the birth I, bore. 
In such a season born, when scarce a shed 
Could be obtain' d to shelter him or me 
From the bleak air ! a stable was our warmth, 
A manger his : yet soon enforced to fly 
Thence into ^gypt, till the murd'rous king 
Were dead, who'sought His life, and missing fill'd 
With infant blood the streets of Bethlehem. 
From ^gypt home return'd, in Nazareth 
Hath been our dwelling many years ; His life 
Private, unactive, calm, contemplative, 
Little suspicious to any king ; but now 
Full grown to man, acknowledged, as I hear. 
By John the Baptist, and in public shown, 
Son own'd from heav'n by his Father's voice ; 
I look'd for some great change : to honour ? no, 
But trouble, as old Simeon plain foretold. 
That to the fall and rising he should be 
Of many in Israel, and to a sign 
Spoken against, that through my very soul 
A sword shall pierce. This is m\' favour'd lot, 
My exaltation to afflictions high ; 
Afflicted I may be, it seems, and blest; 










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PARADISE REGAINED. 



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I will not argue that, nor will repine. 

But where delays he now? some great intent 

Conceals him. When twelve years he scarce had seen, 

I lost him, but so found, as well I saw 

He could not lose himself : but went about 

His father's business. What he meant I mused, 

Since understand. Much more his absence now 

Thus long to some great purpose he obscures. 

But I to wait with patience am inured ; 

My heart hath been a store-house long of things 

And sayings laid up, portending strange events. 

Thus Mary pond'ring oft, and oft to mind 
Recalling what remarkably had pass'd 
Since first her salutation heard, with thoughts 
Meekly composed awaited the fulfilling : 
The while her Son, tracing the desert wild. 
Sole but with holiest meditations fed, 
Into himself descended, and at once 
All his great work to come before him set ; 
How to begin, how to accomplish best 
His end of being on earth, and mission high : 
For Satan, with sly preface to return. 
Had left him vacant, and with speed was gone 
Up to the middle region of thick air. 
Where all his potentates in council sat ; 
There, without sign of boast, or sign of joy. 
Solicitous and blank he thus began. 

Princes, heav'u's ancient sons, ethereal thrones, 
Demonian spirits now from the element 
Each of his reign allotted, rightlier call'd 
Pow'rs of fire, air, water, and earth beneath. 
So may we hold our place, and these mild seats 
Without new trouble ; such an enemy- 
Is risen to invade us, who no less 
Threatens, than our expulsion down to hell; 
I, as I undertook, and with the vote 
Consenting in full frequence was impower'd. 
Have found him, \'iew'd him, tasted him, but find 
Far other labour to be undergone 
Than when I dealt with Adam first of men, 
Though Adam by his wife's allurement fell 
However to this man inferior far, 
If he be man by mother's side at least, 
With more than human gifts from heav'n adorn'd. 
Perfections absolute, graces divine, 
And amplitude of mind to greatest deeds. 
Therefore I am return'd, lest confidence 
Of niy success with Eve in paradise 
Deceive j-e to persuasion oversure 
Of like succeeding here : I summon all 



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PARADISE REGAINED. 15 

Rather to be in readiness, with hand 

Or counsel to assist, lest I, who erst 

Thought none my equal, now be overmatch' d. 
So spake the old Serpent dovibting, and from all 

With clamour was assured their utmost aid 

At his command ; when from amidst them rose 
- _ Belial, the dissolutest spirit that fell, 

.■^\ ■-" - '}■ ; , - The sensualest, and after Asmodai 

V ' ' The fleshliest Incubus, and thus advised. 

% J ^ Set women in his eye, and in his walk, 

if ,X?. ~ Among daughters of men the fairest found ; 

*/ . Many are in each region passing fair 

As the noon sky ; more like to goddesses ; 

Than mortal creatures, graceful and discreet, j; 

Expert in amorous arts, enchanting tongues \ 

Persuasive, virgin majesty with mild if 

And sweet allay'd, yet terrible to approach, 

Skill'd to retire, and in retiring draw 

Hearts after them tangled in amorous nets, 
l- Such object hath the power to soften and tame 

Severest temper, smooth the rugged'st brow, 
: ! Euerve, and with voluptuous hope dissolve, 

^^ :■-, Draw out with credulous desire, and lead ^^ 

_^J^ At will the manliest, resolutest breast, \ 

"fj I As the magnetic hardest iron draws. 41 

Women, when nothing else, beguiled the heart |([ i 

Of wisest Solomon, and made him build. 

And made him bow to the gods of his wives. 
To whom quick answer Satan thus return'd. 

Belial, in much uneven scale thou waigh'st 

All others by thyself ; because of old 

Thou thyself doat'dst on woman-kind, admiring 

Their shape, their colour, and attractive grace, 

None are, thou think'st, but taken with such toys. 

Before the flood thou with thy lusty crew. 

False titled sons of God, roaming the earth, 

Cast wanton eyes on the daughters of men. 

And coupled with them, and begot a race. 

Have we not seen, or by relation heard. 

In courts and regal chambers Iiowthon lurk'st, 

In wood or grove by mossy fountain side, 

In valley or green meadow, to way-lay 

Some beauty rare, Calisto, Clyniene, 

Daphne, or Semele, Antiopa, 

Or Amymone, Syrinx, many more 

Too long, then la3''st thy scapes on names adored, 

Apollo, Neptune, Jupiter, or Pan, 

Satyr, or fav>n, or sylvan? but these haunts 

Delight not all ; among the sons of men. 

How many have with a smile made small account 

1 



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PARADISE REGAINED. 



Of beauty and her lures, easily scorn'd 

All her assaults, on worthier things intent? 

Remember that Pellean conqueror, 

A youth, how all the beauties of the east 

He slightly view'd, and slightly overpass'd ; 

How he surnamed of Africa dismiss'd 

In his prime youth the fair Iberian maid. 

For Solomon, he lived at ease, and full 

Of honour, wealth, high fare, aini'd not beyond 

Higher design than to enjoy his state ; 

Thence to the bait of women lay exposed : 

But He whom we attempt is wiser far 

Than Solomon, of more exalted mind, 

Made and set wholly on the accomplishment 

Of greatest things ; what woman will you find, 

Though of this age the wonder and the fame, 

On whom his leisure will vouchsafe an eye 

Of fond desire ? or should she confident. 

As sitting queen adored on beauty's throne. 

Descend with all her winning charms begirt 

To enamour, as the zone of Venus once 

Wrought that effect on Jove, so fables tell ; 

How would one look from his majestic brow, 

Seated as on the top of virtue's hill. 

Discount' nance her despised, and put to rout 

All her array ; her female pride deject. 

Or turn to reverent awe ? for beauty stands 

In the admiration only of weak minds 

Led captive. Cease to admire, and all her plumes 

Fall flat and shrink into a trivial toy. 

At every sudden slighting quite aba'sh'd : 

Therefore with manlier olDJects we must try 

His constancy, with such as have more show 

Of worth, of honour, glory, and popular praise ; 

Rocks whereon greatest men have oftest wreck'd ; 

Or that which only seems to satisfy 

Lawful desires of nature, not beyond ; 

And now I know he hungers where no food 

Is to be found, in the wide v\^ilderness ; 

The rest commit to me, I shall let pass 

No advantage, and his strength as oft assay. 

He ceased, and heard their grant in loud acclaim ; 
Then forthwith to him takes a chosen band 
Of spirits, likest to himself in guile, 
To be at hand, and at his beck appear, 
If cause were to unfold some active scene 
Of various persons each to know his part ; 
Then to the desert takes with these his flight ; 
Where still from shade to shade the Son of GoD 
After forty days' fasting had remain'd, 



||iM, 











PARADISE REGAINED. 



17 



>..-- 



'"^'J^i.. 



Now hung'ring first, and to himself thus said. 

Where will this end ? four times ten days I've pass'd 
Wand'ring this woody maze, and human food 
Nor tasted, nor had appetite : that fast 
To virtue I impute not, or count part 
Of what I suffer here. If nature need not, 
Or God support nature without repast 
Though needing, what praise is it to endure? 
But now I feel I hunger, which declares 
Nature hath need of what she asks ; yet God 
Can satisfy that need some other way, 
Though hunger still remain : so it remain 
Without this body's wasting, I content me, 
And from the sting of famine fear no harm. 
Nor mind it, fed with better thoughts, that feed 
Me hung'ring more to do my Father's will. 

It was tlie hour of night, when thus the Son 
Communed in silent walk, then laid him down 
Under the hospitable covert nigh 
Of trees thick interwoven ; there he slept. 
And dream' d, as appetite is wont to dream. 
Of meats and drinks, nature's refreshment sweet : 
Him thought he by the brook of Cherith stood. 
And saw the ravens with their homy beaks 
Food to Elijah bringing even and morn. 
Though ravenous, taught t o abstain from what they brought: 
Ke saw the prophet also how he fled 
Into the desert, and how there he slept 
Under a juniper : then how, awaked, 
He found his supper on the coals prepared. 
And by the angel was bid rise and eat. 
And eat the second time after repose, 
The strength whereof sufficed him forty days ; 
Sometimes that with Elijah he partook. 
Or as a guest with Daniel at his pulse. 
Thus wore out night, and now the herald lark 
Left his ground-nest, high tow'ring to descry 
The morn's approach, and greet her with his song. 
As lightly from his grassy couch up rose 
Our Saviour, and found all was but a dream, 
Fasting he went to sleep, and fasting waked. 
Up to a hill anon his steps he rear'd. 
From whose high top to ken the prospect round. 
If cottage were in view, sheep-cote, or herd ; 
But cottage, herd, or sheep-cote none he saw, 
Only in a bottom saw a pleasant grove, 
With chaunt of tuneful birds resounding loud ; 
Thither he bent his way, determined there 
To rest at noon, and enter'd soon the shade 
High roof'd, ^nd walks beneath, and alleys brown, 



'*■ 



f \ 



5^^ 





i8 



PARADISE REGAINED. 



imv 



Utt W* ^ 



That open'd in the midst a woody scene ; 

Nature's own work it seem'd, nature taught art, 

And to a superstitious ej-e the haunt 

Of wood-gods and wood-nymphs ; He view'd it round, 

When suddenly a man before him stood. 

Not rustic as before, but seemlier clad, 

As one in city, or court, or palace bred, 

And with fair speech these words to him address'd. 

With granted leave oflicious I return. 
But much more wonder that the Son of God 
In this wild solitude so long should bide 
Of all things destitute, and well I know. 
Not without hunger. Others of some note, 
As story tells, have trod this wilderness ; 
The fugitive bond-woman with her son 
Out-cast Nebaioth, yet found here relief 
By a providing angel ; all the race 
Of Israel here had famish'd, had not God 
Rairi'd from heav'n manna ; and that prophet bold 
Native of Thebez wand'ring here was fed 
Twice by a voice inviting him to eat. 
Of thee these forty days none hath regard, 
Forty and more deserted here indeed. 

To whom thus Jesus. What conclud'st thou hence? 
They all had need, I, as thou seest, have none. 

How hast thou hunger then ? Satan replied. 
Tell me, if food were now before thee set, 
Wouldst thou not eat ? Thereafter as I like 
The giver, answer'd Jesus. Why should that 
Cause thy refusal ? said the subtle fiend. 
Hast thou not right to all created things ? 
Owe not all creatures b}' just right to thee 
Duty and service, nor to stay till bid. 
But tender all their power? nor mention I 
Meats by the law unclean, or ofFer'd first 
To idols, those young Daniel could refuse ; 
Nor proffer'd by an enemy, though who 
Would scruple that, with want opprest ? behold 
Nature ashanled, or, better to express. 
Troubled that thou should' st hunger, hath purvey' d 
From all the elements her choicest store 
To treat thee as beseems, and as her Lord 
With honour, only deign to sit and eat. 

He spake no dream, for, as his words had end, 
Our Saviour lifting up his eyes beheld 
In ample space under the broadest shade 
A table richly spread, in regal mode. 
With dishes piled, and meats of noblest sort 
And savour, beast of chase, or fowl of game. 
In pastry-built, or from the spit, or boil'd. 




^'^^feps*';!'? 



>-i^ X,^*'^ 




PARADISE REGAINED. 



19 



Gris-amber steam'd; all fish from sea or shore, 

Freshet or purling brook, of shell or fin, 

And exquisitest name, for which was drain'd 

Pontus, and Lucriue bay, and Afric coast. 

Alas how simple, to these cates compared, 

Was that crude apple that diverted Eve ! 

And at a stately side-board by the wine 

That fragrant smell diffused, in order stood 

Tall stripling A'ouths rich clad, of fairer hue 

Than Ganymed or Hylas, distant more 

Under the trees now tripp'd, now solemn stood 

Nymphs of Diana's train, and Naiades 

With fruits and flowers from Amalthea's horn 

And ladies of the Hesperides, that seem'd 

Fairer than feign'd of old, or fabled since 

Of fairy damsels met in forest wide 

By knights of Logres, or of Lyones, 

Lancelot, or Peilas, or Pellenore, 

And all the while harmonious airs were heard 

Of chiming strings or charming pipes, and winds 

Of gentlest gale Arabian odours fann'd 

Frcm their soft wings, and Flora's earliest smells. 

Such was the splendour ; and the tempter now 

His invitation earnestly renew'd. 

What doubts the Son of God to sit and eat ? 
These are not fruits forbidden ; no interdict 
Defends the toucliing of these viands pure ; 
Their taste no knowledge works at least of evil, 
But life preser\-es, destroys life's enemj-. 
Hunger, with sweet restorative delight. 
All these are spirits of air, and woods, and springs, 
Thy gentle ministers, who come to pay 
Thee homage, and acknowledge thee their Lord : 
What doubt'st thou, Son of God ? sit down and eat. 

To whom thus Jesus temperately replied. 
Said'st thou not that to all things I had right? 
And who withholds my pow'r that right to use ? 
Shall I receive by gift what of my own, 
WJien and where likes me "best, I can command ? 
I can at will, doubt not, as soon as thou, 
Command a table in this wilderness. 
And call swift flights of angels ministrant, 
Array'd in glory, on my cup to attend; 
Why should'st thou then obtrude this diligence. 
In vain, where no acceptance it can find ? 
And with my hunger what hast thou to do ? 
Thy pompous delicacies I contemn, 
And count thy specious gifts no gifts, but guiles. 

To whom thus answer' d Satan malecontent. 
That I have also power to give thou seest. 





PARADISE REGAINED. 





If of that power I bring thee voluntary 

What I might have bestow'd on whom I pleased. 

And rather opportunely in this place 

Chose to impart to thy apparent need, 

Why shouldst thou not accept it ? but I see 

What can I do or offer is suspect ; 

Of these things others quickly will dispose, 

Whose pains have earn'd the far-fet spoil. With that 

Both table and provision vanish'd quite 

With sound of Harpies' wings and talons heard ; 

Only the importune tempter still remain'd, 

And with these words his temptation pursued. 

By hunger, that each other creature tames, 
Thou art not to be harm'd, therefore not moved; 
Thy temperance invincible besides, 
For no allurement yields to appetite. 
And all thy heart is set on high designs, 
High actions ; but wherewith to be achieved ? 
Great acts require great means of enterprise ; 
Thou art unknown, unfriended, low of birth, 
A carpenter thy father known, th5'self 
Bred up in poverty and straits at home, 
Lost in a desert here and hunger-bit : 
Which way, or from what hope, dost thou aspire 
To greatness? whence authority deriv'st ? 
Wliat followers, what retinue canst thou gain ? 
Or at thy heels the dizzy multitude, 
Longer than thou canst feed them on thy cost .-' 
Money brings honour, friends, conquest, and realms* 
What raised Antipater the Edomite, 
And his son Herod placed on Judah's throne. 
Thy throne, but gold that got him puissant friends? 
Therefore, if at great things thou wouldst arrive, 
Get riches first, get wealth, and treasure heap, 
Not difficult, if thou hearken to me ; 
Riches are mine, fortune is in my hand ; 
They whom I favour thrive in wealth amain, 
While virtue, valour, wisdom, sit in want. 

To whom thus Jesus patiently replied. 
Yet wealth without these three is impotent 
To gain dominion, or to keep it gain'd. 
Witness those ancient empires of the earth. 
In highth of all their flowing wealth dissolved. 
But men endued with these have oft attain'd 
In lowest poverty to highest deeds ; 
Gideon and Jephtha, and the shepherd lad. 
Whose offspring on the throne of Judah sat 
So many ages, and shall yet regain 
That seat, and reign in Israel without end. 
Among the heathen, for throughout the world 








PARADISE REGAINED. 




;x ; 



To me is not unknown what hath been done 

Worthy of memorial, canst thou not remember 

Quintius, Fabricius, Curius, Regulus ? 

For I esteem those names of men so poor, 

Who could do mighty things, and could contemn 

Riches though offer'd from the hands of kings. 

And what in me seems wanting, but that I 

May also in this poverty as soon 

Accomplish what they did, perhaps, and more ? 

Extol not riches then, the toil of fools, 

The wise man's cumbrance, if not snare, more apt 

To slacken virtue, and abate her edge, 

Than prompt her to do aught may merit praise. 

What, if with like aversion I reject 

Riches and realms? yeX. not, for that a crown. 

Golden in show, is but a wreath of thorns, 

Brings dangers, troubles, cares, and sleepless nights 

To him who wears the regal diadem. 

When on his shoulders each man's burden lies ; 

For therein stands the office of a king. 

His honor, virtue, merit, and chief praise. 

That for the public all this weight he bears. 

Yet he who reigns within himself, and rules 

Passions, desires, and fears, is more a king; 

Which ev'ry wise and virtuous man attains : 

And who attains not, ill aspires to rule 

Cities of men, or head-strong multitudes, 

Subject himself to anarchy within. 

Or lawless passions in him, which he serves. 

But to guide nations in the way of truth 

By saving doctrine, and from error lead 

To know, and knowing worship God aright, 

Is yet more kingly ; this attracts the soul. 

Governs the inner man, the nobler part : 

That other o'er the body only reigns, 

And oft by force, which to a gen'rous mind, 

So reigning, can be no sincere delight. 

Besides, to give a kingdom hath been thought 

(lireater and nobler done, and to laj' down 

Far more magnanimous than to assume. 

Riches are needless then, both for themselves, 

And for thy reason why they should be sought 

To gain a sceptre, oftest better miss'd. 




_ y":,s^=- 




^^^ 



^;2;^^c„i*** vi>>-, 



-^ 




PARADISE REGAINED. 



I|:|, \\ 



BOOK III. 



So spake the Son of God, and Satan stood 
Awhile as mute, confounded what to say, 
What to reply, confuted, and con\nnced 
Of his weak arguing and fallacious drift ; 
At length, collecting all his serpent wiles, 
With soothing words renew'd, Him thus accosts. 

I see thou know'st what is of use to know. 
What best to say canst say, to do canst do ; 
Thy actions to thy words accord, thy words 
To thy large heart give utterance due, thy heart 
Contains of good, wise, just, the perfect shape. 
Should kings and nations from thy mouth consult, 
Thy counsel would be as the oracle 
Urim and Thummim, those oraculous gems 
On Aaron's breast ; or tongue of seers old 
Infallible : or wert thou sought to deeds 
That might require th' array of war, th}' skill 
Of conduct would be such, that all the world 
Could not sustain thy prowess, or subsist 
In battle, though against thy few in arms. 
These god-like virtues wherefore dost thou hide, 
Affecting private life, or more obscure 
In savage wilderness ? wherefore deprive 
All earth her wonder at thy acts, thyself 
The fame and glory, glory the reward 
That sole excites to high attempts, the flame 
Of most erected spirits, most temper' d pure 
Ethereal, who all pleasures else despise. 
All treasures and all gain esteem as dross. 
And dignities and powers, all but the highest? 
The years are ripe, and over-ripe ; the son 
Of Macedonian Philip had ere these 
Won Asia, and the throne of Cyrus held 
At his dispose ; young Scipio had brought down 
The Carthaginian pride; young Ponipey quell'd 
The Pontic king, and in triumph had rode. 
Yet 3'ears, and to ripe years judgment mature, 
Quench not the thirst of glory, but augment. 
Great Julius, whom now all the world admires, 
The more he grew in years, the more inflamed 
With glory, wept that he had lived so long 
Inglorious, but thou yet art not too late. 

To whom our Saviour calmly thus replied. 








PARADISE REGAINED. 



23 



Thou neither dost persuade me to seek wealth 
For empire's sake, nor empire to affect 
For glory's sake by all thy argument. 
^For what is glory but the blaze of fame, 
'The people's praise, if always praise unmixt? 
And what the people but a herd confused, 
A miscellaneous rabble, who extol 

Things vulgar, and well weigh'd, scarce worth the praise? 
They praise and they admire they know not what, 
And know not whom, but as one leads the other : 
And what delight to be by such extoll'd, 
To live upon their tongues and be their talk. 
Of whom to be dispraised were no small praise, 
His lot who dares be singularly good. 
Th' intelligent among them and the wise 
Are few, and glory scarce of few is raised. 
This is true glory and renown, when God, 
Looking on the earth, with approbation marks 
The just man, and divulges him through heaven 
To all His angels, who with true applause 
Recount his praises. Thus He did to Job, 
When, to extend his fame through heav'n and earth, 
As thou to thy reproach may'st well remember, 
He ask'd thee, Hast thou seen my servant Job ? 
Famous he was in heav'n, on earth less known ; 
Where glory is false glory, attributed 
To things not glorious, men not worthy of fame. 
They err who count it glorious to subdue 
By conquest far and wide, to overrun 
Large countries, and in field great battles win, 
Great cities by assault : what do these worthies, 
But rob, and spoil, burn, slaughter, and enslave 
Peaceable nations, neighbouring or remote. 
Made captive, yet deserving freedom more 
Than those their conquerors, who leave behind 
Nothing but ruin wheresoe'er they rove, 
And all the flourishing works of peace destro}^ 
Then swell with pride, and must be titled gods. 
Great benefactors of mankind, deliverers, 
Worshipp'd with temple, priest, and sacrifice ; 
One is the son of Jove, of Mars the other ; 
Till conqueror death discover them scarce men, 
Rolling in brutish vices, anddeform'd. 
Violent or shameful death their due reward. 
But if there be in glory aught of good. 
It may by means far different be attain 'd 
Without ambition, war or violence ; 
B}^ deeds of peace, by wisdom eminent. 
By patience, temperance. I mention still 
Him whom thy wrongs -with saintly patience borne 




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24 



PARADISE REGAINED. 



If'^SS" 




Made famous in a land and times obscure ; 
Who names not now with honour patient J ol) ? 
Poor Socrates, who next more memorable ? 
By what he taught and suffer'd for so doing, 
For truth's sake suffering death unjust, lives now 
Equal in fame to proudest conquerors. 
Yet if for fame and glory aught be done, 
Aught suffer'd ; if young African for fame 
His wasted country freed from Punic rage, 
The deed becomes unpraised, the man at least. 
And loses, though but verbal, his reward. 
Shall I seek glory then, as vain men seek, 
Oft not deserved ? I seek not mine, but His 
Who sent me, and thereby witness whence I am. 

To whom the tempter murmuring thus replied. 
Think not so slight of glory, therein least 
Resembling thy great Father : He seeks glory, 
And for His glory all things made, all things 
Orders and governs ; nor content in heav'n 
By all His angels glorified, requires 
Glory from men, from all men good or bad. 
Wise or unwise, no difference, no exemption ; 
Above all sacrifice or hallow'd gift 
Glory He reqiiires, and glory He receives 
Promiscuous from all nations, Jew, or Greek, 
Or barbarous, nor exception hath declared : 
From us. His foes pronounced, glory He exacts. 

To whom our Saviour fervently replied. 
And reason, since His word all things produced. 
Though chiefly not for glory as prime end, 
But to show forth His goodness, and impart 
His good communicable to every soul 
Freely ; of whom what could He less expect 
Than glory and benediction, that is, thanks. 
The slightest, easiest, readiest, recompense 
From them who could return him nothing else, 
And not returning that would likeliest render 
Contempt instead, dishonour, obloquy ? 
Hard recompense, unsuitable return 
For so much good, so much beneficence. 
But why should man seek glory, who of his own 
Hath nothing, and to whom nothing belongs 
But condemnation, ignominy, and shame? 
Who for so many benefits received 
Turn'd recreant to God, ingrate and false, 
And so of all true good himself despoil'd, 
Yet, sacrilegious, to himself would take 
That which to God alone of right belongs : 
Yet so much bounty is in God, such grace. 
That who advance His glory, not their own. 





PARADISE REGAINED. 



25 



#■'1 r^ 



W:'^ 



\1 ^" 













Them He Himself to glon^ will advance. 

So spake the Son of God ; and here again 
Satan had not to answer, but stood struck 
With guilt of his own sin, for he himself 
Insatiable of glory had lost all ; 
Yet of another plea bethought him soon. 

Of glorj', as thou wilt, said he, so deem, 
Worth or not worth the seeking, let it pass. 
But to a kingdom thou art born, ordain 'd 
To sit upon thy father David's throne. 
By mother's side thy father; though thy right 
Be now in powerful hands, that will not part 
Easily from possession won with arms. 
Judaea now and all the promised land. 
Reduced a province under Roman yoke, 
Obeys Tiberius ; nor is always ruled 
With temperate sway : oft have thev violated 
The temple, oft the law with foul affronts, 
Abominations rather, as did once 
Antiochus : and think'st thou to regain 
Thy right by sitting still or thus retiring ? 
So did not Maccabeus : he indeed 
Retired unto the desert, but with arms ; 
And o'er a mighty king so oft prevail'd. 
That by strong hand his family obtain'd, 
Though priests, the crown, and David's throne usurp'd, 
With Modin and her suburbs once content. 
If kingdom move thee not, let move thee zeal 
And duty ; zeal and duty are not slow ; 
But on occasion's forelock watchful wait. 
They themselves rather are occasion best. 
Zeal of thy father's house, duty to free 
Thy country from her heathen servitude ; 
So shalt thou best fulfil, best verify 
The prophets old, who sung thy endless reign ; 
The happier reign the sooner it begins ; 
Reign then ; what canst thou better do the while ? 

To whom our Saviour answer thus return 'd. 
All things are best fulfill'd in their due time, 
And time there is for all things. Truth had said : 
If of my reign prophetic writhath told 
That it shall never end, so when begin 
The Father in his purpose hath decreed. 
He in whose hands all times and seasons roll. 
What, if He hath decreed that I shall first 
Be tried in humble state and things adverse. 
By tribulations, injuries, insults, 
Contempts, and scorns, and snares, and violence. 
Suffering, abstaining, qiiietlj' expecting, 
Without distrust or doubt, that he mav know 



-*\^^> '^<s^^^^^^MU> 






26 



PARADISE REGAINED. 



i \'s\\'% 



What I can suffer, how obey ? Who best 
Can suffer, best can do ; best reign, who first 
Well hath obey'd, just trial, ere I merit 
My exaltation without change or end. 
But what concerns it thee when I begin 
My everlasting kingdom ? why art thou 
Solicitous ? what moves thy inquisition ? 
Know'st thou not that my rising is thy fall, 
And my promotion will be thy destruction ? 

To whom the tempter, inly rack'd, replied. 
Let that come when it comes ; all hope is lost 
Of my reception into grace : what worse? 
For where no hope is left, is left no fear : 
If there be worse, the expectation more 
Of worse torments me than the feeling can. 
I would be at the worst, worst is my port, 
My harbour, and my ultimate repose ; 
The end I would attain, my final good. 
My error was my error, and my crime 
My crime ; whatever for itself condemn' d, 
And will alike be punish'd, whether thou 
Reign or reign not ; though to that gentle brow 
Willingly I could fly, and hope thy reign. 
From that placid aspect and meek regard, 
Rather than aggravate my evil state. 
Would stand between me and thy father's ire, 
Whose ire I dread more than the fire of hell, 
A shelter, and a kind of shading cool 
Interposition, as a summer's cloud. 
If I then to the worst that can be haste. 
Why move thy feet so slow to what is best, 
Happiest both to thyself and all the world. 
That thou who worthiest art shouldst be their king? 
Perhaps thou linger'st in deep thoughts detain'd 
Of the enterprize so hazardous and high : 
No wonder, for, though in thee be united 
What of perfection can in man be found, 
Or human nature can receive, consider. 
Thy life hath yet been private, most part spent 
At home, scarce view'd the Galilean towns. 
And once a year Jerusalem, few days' 
Short sojourn ; and what thence couldst thou observe? 
The world thou hast not seen, much less her glorj'. 
Empires, and monarchs, and their radiant courts, 
Best school of best experience, quickest insight 
In all things that to greatest actions lead 
The wisest, unexperienced, will be ever 
Timorous and loth, with novice modesty, 
As he who seeking asses found a kingdom, 
Irresolute, unhardy, unadvent'rous . 



PARADISE REGAINED. 



27 



But I will bring thee where thou soon shalt quit 

Those rudiments, and see before thine eyes 

The monarchies of the earth, their pomp and state, 

Sufficient introduction to inform 

Thee, of th3-self so apt, in regal arts 

And regal mysteries, that thou may'st know 

How best their opposition to withstand. 

With that, (such power was given him then, ) he took 
The Sou of God up to a mountain high. 
It was a mountain at whose verdant feet 
A spacious plain outstretch'd in circuit wide 
Lay pleasant ; from his side two rivers flow'd, 
Th' one winding, th' other straight, and left between 
Fair champaign with less rivers inter\'ein'd. 
Then meeting join'd their tribute to the sea : 
Fertile of corn the glebe, of oil, and wine ; 
With herds the pastures throng'd, with flocks the hills; 
Huge cities and high tower'd, that well might seem 
The seats of mightiest monarchs, and so large 
The prospect was, that here and there was room 
For barren desert, fountainless and dr)' 
To this high mountain top the tempter brought 
Our Saviour, and new train of words began. 

Well have we speeded, and o'er hill and dale, 
Forest and field, aud flood, temples, and towers, 
Cut shorter many a league ; here thou behold'st 
Assyria and her empire's ancient bounds, 
Araxes, and the Caspian lake, thence on 
As far as Indus east, Euphrates west. 
And oft beyond ; to south the Persian bay, 
And inaccessible the Arabian drought : 
Here Nineveh, of length within her wall 
Several days' journey, built by Ninus old, 
Of that first golden monarchy the seat, 
And seat of Salmanassar, whose success 
Israel in long captivity still mourns ; 
There Babylon, the wonder of all tongues, 
" As ancient, but rebuilt by him who twice 
Judah and all thy father David's house 
Led captive, and Jerusalem laid waste, 
Till Cyrus set them free ; Persepolis 
His city there thou seest, and Bactra there ; 
Ecbatana her structure vast there shows. 
And Hecatomp3'los her hundred gates ; 
There Susa by Choaspes, amber stream, 
The drink of none but kings ; of later fame 
Built b}' Emathian, or by Parthian hands, 
The great Seleucia, Nisibis, and there 
Artaxata, Teredon, Ctesiphon, 
Turning with easy ej'e thou may'st behold 





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28 



PARADISE REGAINED. 





li^xV 



All these the Parthian, now some ages past, 

By great Arsaces led, who founded first 

That empire, under his dominion holds. 

From the luxurious kings of Antioch won. 

And just in time thou com'st to have a view 

Of his great power ; for now the Parthian king 

In Ctesiphon hath gather'd all his host 

Against the Scythian, whose incursions wild 

Have wasted Sogdiana ; to her aid 

He marches now in haste ; see, though from far 

His thousands, in what martial equipage 

They issue forth, steel bows and shafts their arms, 

Of equal dread in flight or in pursuit ; 

All horsemen, in which fight they most excel : 

See how in warlike muster they appear, 

In rhombs, and wedges, and half-moons, and wings. 

He look'd, and saw what numbers numberless 

The city gates outpour' d, light armed troops 

In coats of mail and military pride ; 

In mail their horses clad, yet fleet and strong. 

Prancing their riders bore, the flower and choice 

Of many provinces from bound to bound ; 

From Arachosia, from Candaor east, 

And Margiana to the Hyrcanian cliff's 

Of Caucasus, and dark Iberian dales, 

From Atropatia and the neighbouring plains 

Of Adiabene, Media, and the south 

Of Susiana, to Balsara's haven. 

He saw them in their forms of battle ranged. 

How quick they wheel'd, and fl5'ing behind them shot 

Sharp sleet of arrowy showers against the face 

Of their pursuers, and overcame by flight ; 

The field all iron cast a gleaming brown : 

Nor wanted clouds of foot, nor on each horn 

Cuirassiers all in steel for standing fight, 

Chariots or elephants endorsed with towers 

Of archers, nor of labouring pioneers 

A multitude with spades and axes arm'd 

To lay hills plain, fell woods, or valleys fill, 

Or, where plain was raise hill, or overlay 

With bridges rivers proud, as with a 5-oke ; 

Mules after these, camels, and dromedaries. 

And waggons fraught with utensils of war. 

Such forces met not, nor so wide a camp. 

When Agrican with all his northern powers 

Besie.^ed Albracca, as romances tell. 

The city of Gallaphrone, from thence to win 

The fairest of her sex Angelica 

His daughter, sought by many prowest knights 

Both Paynitn, and the peers of Charlemain. 




v.. 




i7 





-^ 



PARADISE REGAINED. 



Such and so numerous was their chivair}' ; 

At sight whereof the fiend yet more presumed, 

And to our Saviour thus his words renew' d. 

That thou niay'st know I seek not to engage 
Thy virtue, and not every way secure 
On' no slight grounds thy safety, hear and mark 
To what end J have brought thee hither and shown 
All this fair sight ; thy kingdom, though foretold 
By prophet or by angel, unless thou 
Endeavor, as thj^ father David did. 
Thou never shalt obtain ; prediction still 
In all things, and all men, supposes means. 
Without means used, what it predicts revokes. 
But say thou wert possess'd of David's throne 
By free consent of all, none opposite, 
Samaritan or Jew ; how couldst thou hope 
Long to enjoy it quiet and secure, 
Between two such enclosing enemies, 
Roman and Parthian ? therefore one of these 
Thou must make sure thy own, the Parthian first 
By my advice, as nearer, and of late 
Found able by invasion to annoy 
Thy country, and captive lead away her kings, 
Antigonus, and old Hyrcanus bound, 
Maugre the Roman. It shall be my task 
To render thee the Parthian at dispose ; 
Choose which thou wilt, by conquest or by league 
By him thou shalt regain, without him not, 
That which alone can truly reinstall thee 
In David's royal seat, his true successor. 
Deliverance of thy brethren, those ten tribes 
Whose offspring in his territory yet serve, 
In Habor, and among the Medes dispersed ; 
Ten sons of Jacob, two of Joseph lost 
Thus long from Israel, serving, as of old 
Their fathers in the land of ^^gypt served , 
This offer sets before thee to deliver. 
These if from servitude thou shalt restore 
To their inheritance, then, nor till then, 
Thou on the throne of David in full glory. 
From ^gypt to Euphrates and beyond, 
Shalt reign, and Rome or Caesar not need fear. 

To whom our Saviour answer'd thus unmoved. 
Much ostentation vain of fleshly arm, 
And fragile arms, much instrument of war 
Long in preparing, soon to nothing brought, 
Before mine eyes thou hast set ; and in my ear 
Vented much policy, and projects deep 
Of enemies, of aids, battles, and leagues, 
Plausible to the world, to me worth nought. 



29 



#. 





30 



PARADISE REGAINED. 



% 




Means I must use, thou say'st, prediction else 
Will unpredict and fail me of the throne. 
My time I told thee, and that time for thee 
Were better farthest off, is not yet come ; 
When that comes, think not thou to find me slack 
On my part aught endeavoring, or to need 
Thy politic maxims, or that cumbersome 
Luggage of war there shown me, argument 
Of human weakness rather than of strength. 
My brethren, as thou call'st them, those ten tribes 
I must deliver, if I mean to reign 
David's true heir, and his full sceptre sway 
To just extent over all Israel's sons. 
But whence to thee this zeal, where was it then 
For Israel, or for David, or his throne. 
When thou stood st up his tempter to the pride 
Of numb'ring Israel, which cost the lives 
Of threescore and ten thousand Israelites 
By three days' pestilence ? such was thy zeal 
To Israel then, the same that now to me. 
As for those captive tribes, themselves were they 
Who wrought their own captivity, fell off 
From God to worship calves, the deities 
Of ^gypt, Baal next, and Ashtaroth, 
And all th' idolatries of heathen round, 
Besides their other worse than heathenish crimes ; 
Nor in the land of their captivity, 
Humbled themselves, or penitent besought 
The God of their forefathers ; but so died 
Impenitent, and left a race behind 
Like to themselves, distinguishable scarce 
From Gentiles, but by circumcision vain. 
And God with idols in their worship join'd. 
Should I of these the liberty regard. 
Who freed as to their ancient patrimony, 
Unhumbled, unrepentant, unreform'd, 
Headlong would follow ; and to their gods perhaps 
Of Bethel and of Dan ? no, let them serve 
Their enemies, who serve idols with God. 
Yet he at length, time to himself best known, 
Rememb'ring Abraham, by some wondrous call 
May bring them back repentant and sincere, 
And at their passing cleave the Assyrian flood. 
While to their native land with joy they haste, 
As the Red Sea and Jordan once he cleft, 
When to the promised land their fathers pass'd ; 
To his due time and providence I leave them. 
So spake Israel's true king, and to the fiend 
Made answer meet, that made void all his wiles. 
So fares it when with truth falsehood contends. 




i 




PARADISE REGAINED. 



BOOK IV. 



ry 



PERPiyEx'D and troubled at his bad success 

The tempter stood, nor had what to reply, 

Discover'd in his fraud, thrown from his hope 

So oft, and the persuasive rhetoric 

That sleek' d his tongue, and won so much on Eve ; 

So little here, nay lost : but Eve was Eve, 

This far his over-match, who self-deceived 

And rash, before-hand had no better weigh 'd 

The strength he was to cope with, or his own : 

But as a man who had been matchless held 

In cunning, over-reach'd where least he thought, 

To salve his credit, and for very spite, 

Still will be tempting him who foils him still. 

And never cease, though to his shame the more ; 

Or as a swarm of flies in vintage time. 

About the wine-press where sweet must is pour'd, 

Beat off, returns as oft with humming sound ; 

Or surging waves against a solid rock, 

Though all to shivers dash'd, the assault renew, 

Vain batt'ry, and in froth or bubbles end ; 

So Satan, whom repulse upon repulse 

Met ever, and to shameful silence brought. 

Yet gives not o'er, though desperate of success, 

And his vain importunity pursues. 

He brought our Saviour to the western side 

Of that high mountain, whence he might behold 

Another plain, long, but in breadth not wide, 

Wash'd by the southern sea, and on the north 

To equal length back'd with a ridge of hills, 

That screen'd the fruits of the earth and seats of men 

From cold Septentrion blasts, thence in the midst 

Divided by a river, of whose banks 

On each side an imperial city stood. 

With towers and temples proudly elevate 

On seven small hills, with palaces adorn'd. 

Porches, and theatres, baths, aqueducts. 

Statues, and trophies, and triumphal arcs. 

Gardens, and groves presented to his eyes. 

Above the highth of mountains interposed : 

By what strange parallax or optic skill 

Of vision, multiplied through air, or glass 

Of telescope, were curious to enquire : 

And now the tempter thus his silence broke. 







^-^ 



32 



PARADISE REGAINED. 




m 



m 



The city which thou seest no other deem 
Than great and glorious Rome, queen of the earth 
So far renown'd, and with the spoils enrich'd 
Of nations ; there the Capitol thou seest 
Above the rest lifting his stately head 
On the Tarpeian rock, her citadel 
Impregnable, and there mount Palatine, 
Th' imperial palace, compass huge, and high 
The structure, skill of noblest architects, 
With gilded battlements conspicuous far, 
Turrets, and terraces, and glittering spires. 
Many a fair edifice besides, more like 
Houses of gods, so well I have disposed 
My aery microscope, thou may'st behold 
Outside and inside both, pillars and roofs. 
Carved work, the hand of famed artificers 
In cedar, marble, ivory, or gold. 
Thence to the gates cast round thine eye, and see 
What conflux issuing forth, or ent'ring in, 
Praetors, proconsuls to their provinces 
Hasting, or on return, in robes of state ; 
Lictors and rods, the ensigns of their power, 
Legions and cohorts, turms of horse and wings ; 
Or embassies from regions far remote 
In various habits on the Appian road. 
Or on th' Emilian, some from farthest south 
Syene, and where the shadow both way falls, 
Meroe, Milotic isle, and more to west. 
The realm of Bocchus to the Black-moor sea ; 
From the Asian kings and Parthian, among these, 
From India and the golden Chersonese, 
And utmost Indian isle Taprobane, 
Dusk faces with white silken turbans wreath 'd : 
From Gallia, Gades, and the British west, 
Germans, and Scythians, and Sarmatians north 
Beyond Danubius to the Tauric pool. 
All nations now to Rome obedience pay. 
To Rome's great emperor, whose wide domain 
In ample territory, wealth, and power, 
Civility of manners, arts, and arms. 
And long renown, thou justly may'st prefer 
Before the Parthian ; these two thrones except. 
The rest are barbarous, and scarce worth the sight, 
Shared among petty kings too far removed. 
These having shown thee, I have shown thee all 
The kingdoms of the world, and all their glory. 
This emperor hath no son, and now is old, 
Old and lascivious, and from Rome retired 
To Capreoe, an island small but strong 
On the Campanian shore, with purpose there 




^^-^^. '^-'^f^.^^^^^^4^ 





PARADISE REGAINED. 



33 



l'/%^| 



■^ 




His horrid lusts in private to enjoy, 

Committing to a wicked favourite 

All public cares, and yet of him suspicious, 

Hated of all and hating : with what ease, 

Indued with regal virtues as thou art, 

Appearing and beginning noble deeds, 

Mightst thou expel this monster from his throne, 

Now made a sty, and, in his place ascending, 

A \'ictor people free from servile yoke ? 

And with my help thou may'st ; to me the power 

Is given, and by that right I give it thee. 

Aim therefore at no less than all the world, 

Aim at the highest, without the highest attain'd 

Will be for thee no sitting, or not long. 

On Da\dd's throne, be prophesied what will. 

To whom the Son of God unmoved replied. 
Nor doth this grandeur and majestic show 
Of luxury, though call'd magnificence. 
More than of arms before, allure mine eye, 
Much less my miind ; though thou shouldst add to tell 
Their sumptuous gluttonies and gorgeous feasts 
On citron tables or Atlantic stone, 
For I have also heard, perhaps have read, 
Their wines of Setia, Cales, and Falerne, 
Chios, and Crete, and how thc)^ quaflf in gold. 
Crystal and m3-rrhine cups emboss' d with gems 
And studs of pearl, to me shouldst tell who thirst 
And hunger still. Then embassies thou show'st 
From nations far and nigh. What honour that, 
But tedious waste of time to sit and hear 
So many hollow compliments and lies, 
Outlandish flatteries ? then proceed'st to talk 
Of the emperor, how easily subdued, 
How gloriously ; I shall, thou say'st, expel 
A brutish monster : what if I withal 
Expel a devil who first made him such ? 
Let his tormenter conscience find him out ; 
For him I was not sent, nor yet to free 
That people, victor once, now vile and base. 
Deservedly made vassal, who, once just, 
Frugal, and mild, and temperate, conquer'd well. 
But govern ill the nations under yoke, 
Peeling their pro\'iuces, exhausted all 
But lust and rapine ; first ambitious grown 
Of triumph, that insulting vanity ; 
Then cruel, by their sports to blood inured 
Of fighting beasts, and men to beasts exposed, 
Luxurious by their wealth, and greedier still. 
And from the daily scene effeminate. 
What wise and valiant man would seek to free 



'VA //. 




I 
I 



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L;^ 



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34 



PARADISE REGAINED. 




•\S\ 



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These thus degenerate, by themselves enslaved, 
Or could of inward slaves make outward free ? 
Know therefore, when my season comes to sit 
On David's throne, it shall be like a tree 
Spreading and overshadowing all the earth, 
Or as a stone that shall to pieces dash 
All monarchies besides throughout the world, 
And of my kingdom there shall be no end. 
Means there shall be to this, but what the means. 
Is not for thee to know, nor me to tell. 

To whom the tempter impudent replied. 
I see all offers made by me how slight 
Thou valu'st, because offer'd, and reject'st ; 
Nothing will please the difficult and nice. 
Or nothing more than still to contradict. 
On the other side know also thou, that I 
On what I offer set as high esteem, 
Nor what I part with mean to give for nought ; 
All these which in a moment thou behold'st, 
The kingdoms of the world to thee I give ; 
For, giv'n to me, I give to whom I please. 
No trifle ; yet with this reserve, not else. 
On this condition, if thou w ilt fall down, 
And worship me as thy superior lord, 
Easily done, and hold them all of me : 
For what can less so great a gift deserve ? 

Whom thus our Saviour answer' d with disdain. 
I never liked thy talk, thy offers less, 
Now both abhor, since thou hast dared to utter 
The abominable terms, impious condition ; 
But I endure the time, till which expired 
Thou hast permission on me. It is written 
The first of all commandments, Thou shalt worship 
The Lord thy God, and only him shalt serve ; 
And dar'st thou to the Son of God propound 
To worship thee accurst, now more accurst 
For this attempt, bolder than that on Eve, 
And more blasphemous ? which expect to rue. 
The kingdoms of the world to thee were giv'n. 
Permitted rather, and by thee usurp' d. 
Other donation none thou canst produce : 
If giv'n, by whom but by the King of kings, 
God over all Supreme ? if given to thee. 
By thee how fairly is the giver now 
Repaid ? but gratitude in thee is lost 
Long since. Wert thou so void of fear or shame, 
As offer them to me the Son of God, 
To me my own, on such abhorred pact. 
That I fall down and worship thee as God ? 
Get thee behind me ; plain thou now appear'st 





PARADISE REGAINED. 



35 






^^^.MM\\^ 



That evil one, Satan for ever damn'd. 

To whom the fiend with fear abashd replied. 
Be not so sore offended, Son of God, 
Though sons of God both angels are and men, 
If I, to try whether in higher sort 
Than these thou bear'st that title, have proposed 
What both from men and angels I receive, 
Tetrarchs of fire, air, flood, and on the earth 
Nations besides from all the quarter'd winds, 
God of this world invoked and world beneath ; 
Who then thou art, whose coming is foretold 
To me so fatal, me it most concerns. 
The trial hath indamaged thee no way. 
Rather more honour left and more esteem ; 
Me nought advantaged, missing what I aim'd. 
Therefore let pass, as they are transitory. 
The kingdoms of this world ; I shall no more 
Ad\dse thee ; gain them as thou canst, or not. 
And thou thyself seem'st otherwise inclined 
Than to a worldly crown, addicted more 
To contemplation and profound dispute, 
As by that early action may be judged. 
When, slipping from thy mother's eye, thou went'st 
Alone into the temple, there wast found 
Amongst the gravest rabbies disputant 
On points and questions fitting Moses' chair. 
Teaching, not taught ; the childhood shows the man, 
As morning shows the day. Be famous then 
By wisdom ; as thy empire must extend, 
So let extend thy mind o'er all the world 
In knowledge, all things in it comprehend : 
All knowledge is not couch'd in Moses' law, 
The Pentateuch, or what the prophets wrote ; 
The Gentiles also know, and write, and teach 
To admiration, led by nature's light ; 
And ■with the Gentiles much thou must converse, 
Ruling them by persuasion as thou nieanst ; 
Without their learning how wilt thou with them, 
Or they with thee, hold conversation meet ? 
How wilt thou reason with them ? how refute 
Their idolisms, traditions, paradoxes? 
Error by his own arms is best evinced. 
Look once more, ere we leave this specular mount, 
Westward, much nearer by south-west, behold 
Where on the ^gean shore a city stands 
Built nobly, pure the air, and light the soil, 
Athens the eye of Greece, mother of arts 
And eloquence, native to famous wits, 
Or hospitable, in her sweet recess. 
City or suburban, studious walks and shades ; 






36 



PARADISE REGAINED. 




)% A'"' 




See there the olive grove of Academe, 

Plato's retirement, where the Attic bird 

Trills her thick-warbled notes the summer long ; 

There flow'ry hill Hymettus with the sound 

Of bees' industrious iimrmur oft invites 

To studious musing ; there Ilissus rolls 

His whispering stream ; within the walls then view 

The schools of ancient sages ; his who bred 

Great Alexander to subdue the world ; 

Lyceum there, and painted Stoa next. 

There thou shalt hear and learn the secret power 

Of harmony, in tones and numbers hit 

By voice or hand, and various-measured verse, 

^olian charms and Dorian lyric odes. 

And his who gave them breath, but higher sung, 

Blind Melesigenes, thence Homer call'd. 

Whose poem Phoebus challenged for his own. 

Thence what the lofty grave tragedians taught 

In Chorus or lambick, teachers best 

Of moral prudence, with delight received, 

In brief sententious precepts, while they treat 

Of fate, and chance, and change in human life ; 

High actions and high passions best describing. 

Thence to the famous orators repair, 

Those ancient, whose resistless eloquence 

Wielded at will that fierce democratic, 

Shook the arsenal, and fulmin'd over Greece, 

To Macedon, and Artaxerxes' throne : 

To sage philosophy next lend thine ear. 

From heav'n descended to the low-rooft house 

Of Socrates ; see there his tenement, 

Whom well inspired the oracle pronounced 

Wisest of men ; from whose mouth issued forth 

Mellifluous streams that water' d all the schools 

Of Academics old and new, with those 

Sumamed Peripatetics, and the sect 

Epicurean, and the Stoic severe ; 

These here revolve, or, as thou lik'st, at home, 

Till time mature thee to a kingdom's weight ; 

These rules will render thee a king complete 

Within thyself, much more with empire joined. 

To whom our Saviour sagely thus replied. 
Think not but that I know these things, or thmk 
I know them not ; not therefore am I short 
Of knowing what I ought : he who receives 
lyight from above, from the fountain of light. 
No other doctrine needs, though granted true: 
But these are false, or little else but dreams, 
Conjectures, fancies, built on nothing firm. 
The first and wisest of them all professed 



fill 



tt 




^r^"-^ /- ■■-- ^ ~ -^ 

PARADISE REGAINED. 37 

To know this only, that he nothing knew ; 
The next to fabling fell and smooth conceits ; 
,\ \,' A third sort doubted all things, though plain sense ; 

""V Others in virtue placed felicity, 

But \'irtue join'd with riches and long life ; 
In corporal pleasure he and careless ease ; 

^ The Stoic last in philosophic pride, 

-^; By him call'd virtue ; and his virtuous man, 

^ ' Wise, perfect in himself, and all possessing, 

Equal to God, oft shames not to prefer, 
As fearing God nor man, contemning all 
Wealth, pleasure, pain or torment, death and life, 
Which when he lists he leaves, or boasts he can 
For all his tedious talk is but vain boast, 
Or subtle shifts conviction to evade. 
Alas ! what can they teach and not mislead, 
Ignorant of themselves, of God much more, 

^ And how the world began, and how man fell 

11^ Degraded by himself, on grace depending ? 

■ ■' Much of the soul they talk, but all awry, 

And in themselves seek virtue, and to themselves 

All glory arrogate, to God give none, 

Rather accuse him under usual names. 

Fortune and fate, as one regardless quite 

Of mortal things. Who therefore seeks in these 

True wisdom, finds her not, or by delusion 

F'ar worse, her false resemblance only meets, 

An empty cloud. However, many books 

Wise men have said are wearisome ; who reads 

Incessantly, and to his reading brings not 

A spirit and judgment equal or superior, 

And what he brings what need he elsewhere seek ? 

Uncertain and unsettled still remains, 

Deep versed in books, and shallow in himself. 

Crude or intoxicate, collecting toys, 

And trifles for choice matters, worth a sponge ; 

As children gath'ring pebbles on the shore. 

Or if I would delight my private hours 

With music or with poem, where so soon 

As in our native language can I find 

That solace? all our law and story strew'd 

With hymns, our psalms with artful terms inscribed, 

Our Hebrew songs and harps in Babylon, 

That pleased so well our victor's ear, declare 

That rather Greece from us these arts derived ; 

111 imitated, while they loudest sing 

The \nces of their deities and their own 

In fable, hymn, or song, so personating 

Their gods ridiculous, and themselves past shame. 

Remove their swelling epithets, thick laid 




<-^ 




^_t3.5=S- — ~ 




38 



PARADISE REGAINED. 



#.'• 





'ill ' \ 



As varnish on a harlot's cheek, the rest, 

Thin sown with aught of profit or delight, 

Will far be found unworthy to compare 

With Sion's songs, to all true tastes excelling. 

Where God is praised aright, and god-like men, 

The Holiest of Holies, and his saints : 

Such are from God inspired, not such from thee, 

Unless where moral virtue is express'd 

By light of nature not in all quite lost. 

Their orators thou then extol'st, as those 

The top of eloquence, statists indeed. 

And lovers of their country, as may seem ; 

But herein to our prophets far beneath, 

As men divinely taught, and better teaching 

The solid rules of civil government 

In their majestic unaffected style. 

Than all the oratory of Greece and Rome. 

In them is plainest taught, and easiest learnt. 

What makes a nation happy, and keeps it so. 

What ruins kingdoms, and lays cities flat ; 

These only with our law best form a king. 

So spake the Son of God ; but Satan, now. 
Quite at a loss, for all his darts were spent. 
Thus to our Saviour with stern brow replied. 

Since neither wealth, nor honour, arms, nor arts, 
Kingdom, nor empire pleases thee, nor aught 
By me proposed in life contemplative 
Or active, tended on by glory or fame. 
What dost thou in this world ? the wdldemess 
For thee is fittest place ; I found thee there, 
And thither will return thee ; yet remember 
What I foretell thee, soon thou shalt have cause 
To wish thou never hadst rejected thus 
Nicely or cautiously my offer' d aid, 
Which would have set thee in short time with ease 
On David's throne, or throne of all the world. 
Now at full age, fulness of time, thy season. 
When prophecies of thee are best fulfill 'd. 
Now contrary, if I read aught in heav'n, 
Or heav'n write aught of fate, by what the stars, 
Voluminous, or single characters. 
In their conjunction met, give me to spell, 
Sorrows, and labours, opposition, hate. 
Attends thee, scorns, reproaches, injuries. 
Violence, and stripes, and lastly cruel death ; 
A kingdom they portend thee, but what kingdom. 
Real or allegoric, I discern not. 
Nor when, eternal sure, as without end. 
Without beginning ; for no date prefixt 
Directe me in the starry rubric set. 





PARADISE REGAINED. 



39 



■tt' 




i«h. 



^ 



So saying he took, for still he knew his pow'r 
Not vet expired, and to the wilderness 
Brought back the Son of God, and left him there, 
Feigning to disappear. Darkness now rose, 
As daylight sunk, and brought in low'ring Night, 
Her shadowy offspring, unsubstantial both, 
Privation mere of light and absent day. 
Our Saviour, meek and with untroubled mind 
After his aery jaunt, though hurried sore, 
Hungry and cold betook him to his rest, 
Wherever, under some concourse of shades, 
Whose branching arms thick intertwined might shield 
From dew and damps of night his shelter'd head, 
But shelter'd slept in vain, for at his head 
The tempter watch'd, and soon with ugly dreams 
Disturb' d his sleep : and either tropic now 
'Gan thunder, and both ends of heav'n the clouds 
From many a horrid rift abortive pour'd 
Fierce rain with light'ning mix'd, water with fire 
In ruin reconciled : nor slept the winds 
Within their stony caves, but rush'd abroad 
From the four hinges of the world, and fell 
On the vext wilderness, whose tallest pines, 
Though rooted deep as high, and sturdiest oaks 
Bow'd their stiff necks, loaden with stormy blasts, 
Or torn up sheer : ill wast thou shrouded then, 
O patient Son of God, yet only stood' st 
l^nshaken ; nor yet staid the terror there, 
Infernal ghosts and hellish furies round 
Environ'd thee ; somehowl'd, some yell'd, some shnek'd. 
Some bent at thee their fiery darts, while thou 
Sat'st unappall'd in calm and sinless peace. 
Thus pass'd the night so foul, till morning fair 
Came forth with pilgrim steps in amice gray. 
Who with her radiant finger still'd the roai 
Of thunder, chased the clouds, and laid the winds, 
And grisly spectres, which the fiend had raised 
To tempt the Son of God with terrors dire. 
And now the sun with more effectual beams 
Had cheer'd the face of earth, and dried the wet 
From drooping plant or dropping tree ; the birds, 
Who all things now behold more fresh and green. 
After a night of storm so ruinous, 
Clear'd up their choicest notes in bush and spray. 
To gratulate the sweet return of mom : 
Nor yet amidst this joy and brightest morn 
Was absent, after all his mischief done, 
The prince of darkness, glad would also seem 
Of this fair change, and to our Saviour came. 
Yet with no new device, they all were spent. 






40 



PARADISE REGAINED. 



a.'Hti'v\' 





Rather by this his last affront resolved, 
Desperate of better course, to vent his rage, 
And mad despite to be so oft repell'd. 
Him walking on a sunny hill he found, 
Back'd on the north and west by a thick wood : 
Out of the wood he starts in wonted shape. 
And in a careless mood thus to him said. 

Fair morning yet betides thee, Son of God, 
After a dismal night : I heard the rack 
As earth and sky would mingle, but myself 
Was distant ; and these flaws, though mortals fear them 
As dangerous to the pillar'd frame of heav'n, 
Or to the earth's dark basis underneath. 
Are to the main as inconsiderable 
And harmless, if not wholesome, as a sneeze 
To man's less universe, and soon are gone ; 
Yet as being ofttimes noxious where they light 
On man, beast, plant, wasteful, and turbulent, 
Ivike turbulencies in the affairs of men. 
Over whose heads they roar, and seem to point, 
They oft fore-signify and threaten ill : 
This tempest at this desert most was bent : 
Of men at thee, for only thou here dwell'st. 
Did I not tell thee, if thou did'st reject 
The perfect season offer' d with my aid 
To vdu thy destined seat, but wilt prolong 
All to the push of fate, pursue the way 
Of gaining David's throne no man knows when, 
For both the when and how is no where told, 
Thou shalt be what thou art ordain'd, no doubt ; 
For angels have proclaim'd it, but concealing 
The time and means ; each act is rightliest done 
Not when it must, but when it may be best. 
If thou observe not this, be sure to find. 
What I foretold thee, many a hard assaj' 
Of dangers, and adversities, and pains. 
Ere thou of Israel's sceptre get fast hold ; 
Whereof this ominous night that closed thee round, 
So many terrors, voices, prodigies, 
May warn thee, as a sure fore-going sign. 

So talk'd he, while the Son of God went on 
And staid not, but in brief him answer'd thus. 

Me worse than wet thou find'st not ; other harm 
Those terrors, which thou speak'st of, did me none ; 
I never fear'd they could, though noising loud 
And threat' inng nigh ; what they can do as signs 
Betok'ning, or ill-boding, I contemn 
As false portents, not sent from God, but thee ; 
Who, knowing I shall reign past thy preventing, 
Obtrud'st thy offer'd aid th it I a(.ce])tiiii,' 



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ib 



PARADISE REGAINED. 

At least might seem to hold all pow'r of thee, 
Ambitious spirit ! and wouklst be thought mj' God. 
And storm'st refused, thinking to terrify 
Me to thy will. Desist, thou art discern'd 
And toil'st in vain, nor me in vain molest. 

To whom the fiend now swoU'n with rage replied. 
Then hear, O Son of David, virgin-born ; 
For vSon of God to me is yet in doubt : 
Of the Messiah I had heard, foretold 
By all the prophets ; of thy birth at length 
Announced by Gabriel with the first I knew, 
And of the angelic song in Bethlehem field, 
On thy birth night, that sung thee Saviour born. 
From that time seldom have I ceased to eye 
Thy infancy, thy childhood, and thy youth, 
Thy manhood last, though yet in private bred ; 
Till at the ford of Jordan, whither all 
Flock'd to the Baptist, I among the rest. 
Though not to be baptized, by voice from heav'n 
Heard thee pronounced the Son of God beloved. 
Thenceforth I thought thee worth my nearer view 
And narrower scrutiny, that I might leani 
In what degree or meaning thou art call'd 
The Son of God, which bears no single sense ; 
The Son of God I also am, or was, 
And if I was I am ; relation stands ; 
All men are sons of God ; yet thee I thought 
In some respect far higher so declared. 
Therefore I watch'd thy footsteps from that hour. 
And follow'd thee still on to this waste wild ; 
Where by all best conjectures I collect 
Thou art to be my fatal enemy. 
Good reason then, if I beforehand seek 
To understand my adversary, v.ho. 
And what he is ; his wisdom, power, intent , 
By pari, or composition, truce, or league, 
To win him, or win from him what I can. 
And opportunity I here have had 
To trv thee, sift thee, and confess have found thee 
Proof against all temptation, as a rock 
Of adamant, and as a centre firm. 
To the utmost of mere man both wise and good, 
Not more ; for honours, riches, kingdoms, glory, 
Have been before contemn'd, and may again : 
Therefore to know what more thou art than man, 
Worth naming Son of God by voice from heav'n, 
Another method I must now begin. 

So saying he caught him up, and without wing 
Of hippogrif bore through the air sublime 
Over the wilderness and o'er the plain , 



41 



%; 



~--^^S^'i'^<J:¥ 



^ 



:%^ 





PARADISE REGAINED. 




Till underneath them fair Jerusalem, 
The holy city, lifted high her towers, 
And higher yet the glorious temple rear'd 
Her pile, far off appearing like a mount 
Of alabaster, topp'd with golden spires : 
There on the highest pinnacle he set 
The Son of God, and added thus in scorn. 

There stand, if thou wilt stand ; to stand upright 
Will ask thee skill ; I to thy father's house 
Have brought thee, and highest placed ; highest is best ; 
Now show thy progeny ; if not to stand, 
Cast thyself down ; safely, if Son of God ; 
For it is written. He will give command 
Concerning thee to his angels, in their hands 
They shall uplift thee, lest at any time 
Thou chance to dash thy foot against a stone. 

To whom thus Jesus. Also it is written, 
Tempt not the Lord thy God : he said and stood : 
But Satan smitten with amazement fell. 
As when earth's son Antaeus, to compare 
Small things with greatest, in Irassa strove 
With Jove's Alcides, and oft foil'd still rose, 
Receiving from his mother earth new strength , 
Fresh from his fall, and fiercer grapple join'd. 
Throttled at length in th' air, expired and fell ; 
So after many a foil the tempter proud. 
Renewing fresh assaults, amidst his pride 
Fell whence he stood to see his victor fall. 
And as that Theban monster that proposed 
Her riddle, and him who solved it not, devour'd, 
That once found out and solved, for grief and spite 
Cast herself headlong from th' Ismenian steep ; 
So struck with dread and anguish fell the fiend, 
And to his crew that sat consulting, brought 
Joyless triumphals of his hoped success, 
Ruin, and desperation, and dismay, 
Who durst so proudly tempt the Son of God 
So Satan fell ; and straight a fiery globe 
Of angels on full sail of wing flew nigh, 
Who on their plumy vans received Him soft 
From His uneasy station, and upbore 
As on a floating couch through the blithe air, 
Then in a fiow'ry valley set Him down 
On a green bank, and set before Him spread 
A table of celestial food, divine, 
Ambrosial fruits, fetch'd from the Tree of Life, 
And from the Fount of Life ambrosial drink, 
That soon refresh'd Him wearied, and repair'd 
What hunger, if aught hunger had impair' d 
Or thirst; and, as He fed, angelic quires 



^ 




.1.^ 







PARADISE REGAINED. 

Sung heav'nly anthems of his victory 

Over temptation and the tempter proud. 

True Image of the father, whether throned 

In the bosom of bUss, and light of light 

Conceiving, or remote from heav'n, enshrined 

In fleshly tabernacle and human form, 

Wand'ring the wilderness, whatever place, 

Habit, or state, or motion, still expressing 

The Son of God, with god-like force indued 

Against th' attempter of thy Father's throne, 

And thief of paradise ; him long of old 

Thou didst debel, and down from heav'n cast 

With all his army, now thou hast avenged 

Supplanted Adam, and by vanquishing 

Temptation, hast regain'd lost Paradise ; 

And frustrated the conquest fraudulent : 

He never more henceforth will dare set foot 

In Paradise to tempt ; his snares are broke : 

For though that seat of earthly bliss be fail'd, 

A fairer paradise is founded now 

For Adam and his chosen sons, whom thou 

A Saviour art come down to re-install 

Where they shall dwell secure, when time shall be. 

Of tempter and temptation without fear. 

P.ut thou, infernal serpent, shalt not long 

Rule in the cloiids ; like an autumnal star 

Or light'ning thou shalt fall from heav'n trod down 

Under His feet ; for proof, ere this thou feel'st 

Thy wound, yet not thy last and deadliest wound, 

By this repulse received, and hold'st in hell 

No triumph. In all her gates Abaddon rues 

Thy bold attempt ; hereafter learn with awe 

To dread the Son of God : he all unarm'd 

Shall chase thee with the terror of his voice 

From thy demoniac holds, possession foul, 

Thee and thy legions : 3-elling they shall fl}-, 

And beg to hide them in a herd of swine, 

Lest he command them down into the deep 

Bound, a;;d to torment sent before their time. 

Hail Son of the most Pligh, heir of both worlds, 

Oueller of Satan, on thy glorious work 

Nov.' enter, and begin to save mankind. 

Thus they the Son of God our Saviour meek 
Sung victor, and from heav'nly feast refresh'd 
Brought on liis way with joy ; he iuiobser\'ed 
Home to his mother's house private return'd. 



43 






Samson HGonietcs, 

OF THAT SORT OF DRAMATIC POEM WHICH IS CALLED 
TRAGEDY. 



Preface written by Milton. 

Tragedy, as it was anciently composed, hath been ever held the 
gravest, moralest, and most profitable of all other poems ; therefore 
said by Aristotle to be of power, by raising pity, and fear, or terror, 
to purge the mind of those and such like passions, that is, to temper 
and reduce them to just measure with a kind of delight, stirred up 
by reading or seeing those passions well imitated. Nor is nature 
wanting in her own effects to make good his assertion, for so in 
physic things of melancholic hue and quality are used against 
melancholy, sour against sour, salt to remove salt humours. Hence 
philosophers and other gravest writers, as Cicero, Plutarch, and 
others, frequently cite out of tragic poets, both to adorn and illustrate 
their discourse. The Apostle Paul himself thought it not unworthy 
to insert a ver.se of Euripides into the text of Holy Scripture, i Cor. 
XV. 31, andParteus, commenting on the Revelation, divides the whole 
book, as a tragedy, into acts, distinguished each by a chorus of 
heavenly harpings and song between. Heretofore men in highest 
dignity have laboured not a little to be thought able to compose a 
tragedy. Of that honour Dionysius the elder was no less ambitious, 
than before of his attaining to the tyranny. Augustus Cssar also had 
begun his " Ajax,"but unabletopleasehisown judgment with what 
he had be?un, left it unfinished. Seneca, the philosopher, is by some 
thought the author of those tragedies, at least the best of them, that 
go under that name. Gregory Nazianzen, a father of the Church, 
thought it not unbeseeming the sanctity of his person to write a 
tragedy, which is entitled, "Christ Suffering." This is mentioned to 
vindicate tragedy from the small esteem, or rather infamy, which 
in the account of many it undergoes at this day with other common 
interludes; happening through the poet's error of intermixing 
comic stuff with tragic sadness and gravity, or introducing trivial 
and vulgar persons, which bv all judicious hath been counted absurd, 
and brought in without discretion, corruptly to gratify the people. 
And though ancient tragedy use no prologue, yet using sometimes, 
in case of self-defence, or explanation, that which Martial calls an 
epistle, in behalf of this tragedy coming forth after the ancient 
manner, much different from what among us passes for best, thus 
much beforehand may be epistled : that Chorus is here introduced 
after the Greek manner, not ancient only but modern, and still in use 
among the Italians. In the modelling therefore of this poem, with 
good reason, the ancients and Italians are rather followed, as of much 
more authority and fame. The measure of verse used in the chorus 
is of all sorts, called by the Greeks Monostrophie, or rather Apolely- 
menon, without regard had to Strophe, Antistrophe, or Epode, which 
were a kind of stanzas framed only for the music then used with the 

(44) 



'ill'' 




^ ■ J 



SAMSON AGONISTES. 



45 






f I a 



chorus that sung ; not essential to the poena, and therefore not 
material ; or bein^ divided into stanzasor pauses, they maybe called 
Alloeostropha. Division into act and scene referring chiefly to the 
stage, to which this work never was intended, is here omitted. 

It suffices if the whole drama be found not produced beyond the 
fifth act ; of the style and uniformity, and that commonly called the 
plot, whether intricate or explicit, which is nothing indeed but such 
economy, or disposition of the fable as may stand best with verisi- 
militude and decorum, they only will best judge who are not un- 
acquainted with ^schylus, Sophocles, and Euripides, the three 
tragic poets, unequalled yet by any, and the best rule to all who en- 
deavour to write tragedy. The circumscription of time, wherein the 
whole drama begins and ends is, according to ancient rule and best 
example, within the space of twenty-four hours. 




■^ 



The Argument. 

Samson made captive, blind, and now in the prison at Gaza, there 
to labour as in a common workhouse, on a festival-daj', in the general 
cessation from labour, comes forth into the open air, to a place nigh, 
somewhat retired, there to sit awhile and bemoan his condition : 
where he happens at length to be visited by certain friends and 
equals of his tribe, which make the chorus, who seek to comfort him 
what they can ; then by his old father Manoah, who endeavours the 
like, and withal tells him his purpose to procure his liberty by ran- 
som ; and, lastly, that this feast was proclaimed by the Philistines as 
a day of thanksgiving for their deliverance from the hands of Sam- 
son, which yet niore troubles him. Manoah then departs to prosecute 
his endeavour with the Philistine lords for Samson's redemption; 
who in the meanwhile is visited by other persons ; and lastly by a 
public officer to require his coming to the feast before the lords and 
people, to play or show his strength in their presence. He at first 
refuses, dismissing the public officer with absolute denial to come ; 
at length persuaded inwardly that this was from God, he yields to go 
along with him, who came now the second time with great threaten- 
ings to fetch him. The chorus yet remaining on the place, Manoah 
returns full of joyful hope, to procure ere long his son's deliverance: 
in the midst of which discourse a Hebrew comes in haste, confusedly 
at first, and afterward more distinctly, relating the catastrophe, what 
Samson had done to the Philistines, and by accident to himself; 
wherewith the tragedy ends. 



THE PERSONS. 



Samson. 

Manoah, the Father of 

Samson. 
Dalila, his wife. 



Harapha of Gath. 
Public Officer. 
Messenger. 
Chorus of Danites. 



The Scene before the Prison in Gaza. 

Sams. A little onward lend thj- guiding hand 
To these dark steps, a little further on ; 
For yonder bank hath choice of sun or shade : 
There I am wont to sit, when any chance 
Relieves tne from my task of servale toil, 
Daily in the common prison else enjoin'd me, 
Where I, a prisoner chain'd, scarce freely draw 
The air imprison 'd also, close and damp, 
Unwholesome draught : but here I feel amends. 
The breath of heav'n fresh blowing, pure and sweet, 
With day-spring born ; here leave me to respire. 
This day a solemn feast the people hold 







K^^flJ ■■ 





46 



SAMSON AGONISTES. 



^\' 






To Dagon, their sea-idol, and forbid 

Laborious works, unwillingly this rest 

Their superstition yields me ; hence with leave 

Retiring from the popular noise I seek 

This unfrequented place to find some ease ; 

Ease to the body some, none to the mind 

From restless thoughts, that, like a deadly swarm 

Of hornets arm'd, no sooner found alone, 

But rush upon me thronging, and present 

Times past, what once I was, and what am now. 

Oh ! wherefore was m.y birth from heav'n foretold 

Twice by an angel, who at last in sight 

Of both my parents all in flames ascended 

From off the altar, where an oflF'ring burn'd. 

As in a fiery column charioting 

His god-like presence, and from some great act 

Or benefit reveal'd to Abraham's race? 

Why was my breeding order'd and prescribed 

As of a person separate to God, 

Design 'd for great exploits, if I must die 

Betray'd, captived, and both my eyes put out. 

Made of my enemies the scorn and gaze, 

To grind in brazen fetters under task 

With this heav'n-gifted strength ? O glorious strength 

Put to the labour of a beast, debased 

Lower than bondslave ! Promise was that I 

Should Israel from Philistian yoke deliver ; 

Ask for this great deliverer now, and find him 

Eyeless in Gaza at the mill with slaves, 

Himself in bonds under Philistian yoke. 

Yet stay, let me not rashly call in doubt 

Divine prediction : what if all foretold 

Had been fulfill'd but through mine own default. 

Whom have I to complain of but myself? 

Who this high gift of strength committed to me. 

In what part lodged, how easily bereft me. 

Under the seal of silence could not keep. 

But weakly to a woman must reveal it, 

O'ercome with importunity and tears. 

O impotence of mind in body strong ! 

But what is strength without a double share 

Of wisdom? vast, unwieldy, burthensome. 

Proudly secure, yet liable to fall 

By weakest subtleties, not made to rule. 

But to subserve where wisdom bears command. 

God, when he gave me strength, to show withal 

How slight the gift was, hung it in my hair. 

But peace, I must not quarrel with the will 

Of highest dispensation, which herein 

Haply had ends above my reach to know : 











A- ^<^ 



isl***. / 






^j4 

.^^ 



7, 



(. '1.1 



SA3ISON AGONISTES. 

Suffices that to me strength is my bane, 

And proves the source of all my miseries, 

So many, and so huge, that each apart 

Would ask a life to wail ; but chief of all, 

O loss of sight, of thee I most complain ! 

Blind among enemies, O worse than chains, 

Dungeon, or beggary, or decrepit age ! 

Light the prime work of God to me's extinct, 

And all her various objects of delight 

AnnuU'd, which might in part my grief have eased 

Inferior to the vilest now become 

Of man or worm, the vilest here excel me ; 

They creep, yet see, I dark in light exposed 

To daily fraud, contempt, abuse, and wrong. 

Within doors, or without, still as a fool 

In power of others, never in my own ; 

Scarce half I seem to live, dead more than half 

O dark, dark, dark, amid the blaze of noon, 

Irrecoverably dark, total eclipse 

Without all hope of day ! 

O first created beam, and thou great Word, 

Let there be light, and light was over all ; 

Why am I thus bereaved thy prime decree ? 

The sun to me is dark 

And silent as the xnoon, 

When she deserts the night 

Hid in her vacant interlunar cave. 

Since light so necessary is to life. 

And almost life itself, if it be true 

That light is in the soul, 

She all in every part ; why was the sight 

To such a tender ball as th' eye confined. 

So obvious and so easy to be quench'd ? 

And not, as feeling, through all parts diffused, 

That she might look at will through ever}' pore ? 

Then had I not been thus exiled from light. 

As in the land of darkness yet in light, 

To live a life half dead, a living death. 

And buried ; but O yet more miserable ! 

Myself my sepulchre, a moving grave. 

Buried, yet not exempt 

By privnlege of death and burial 

From worst of other evils, pains, and wrongs, 

But made hereby obnoxious more 

To all the miseries of life. 

Life in captivity 

Among inhuman foes. 

But who are these ? for with joint pace I hear 

The tread of many feet steering this way ; 

Perhaps my enemies, who come to stare 



47 



4 






48 



SAMSON AGONISTES. 






At my affliction, and perhaps t' insult, 
Their daily practice to afflict nie more. 

Chor. This, this is he ; softly a while, 
Let us not break in iipon him 
O change beyond report, thought, or belief ! 
See how he lies at random, carelessly diffused, 
With languish' d head unpropp'd. 
As one past hope, abandon 'd, 
As by himself given over ; 
In slavish habit, ill-fitted weeds 
O'er-worn and soil'd ; 

Or do my 63-68 misrepresent ? can this be he, 
That heroic, that renown'd. 
Irresistible Samson? whom unarm 'd 
No strength of man or fiercest vdld beast could withstand ; 
Who tore the lion, as the lion tears the kid. 
Ran on imbattled armies clad in iron. 
And, weaponless himself. 
Made arms ridiculous, useless the forgery 
Of brazen shield and spear, the hammer'd cuirass 
Chalybean temperd steel, and frock of mail 
Adamantean proof ; 
But safest he who stood aloof, 
When insupportably his foot advanced. 
In scorn of their proud arms and warlike tools. 
Spurn 'd them to death by troops. The bold Ascalonite 
Fled from his lion ramp, old warriors turn'd 
Their plated backs under his heel : 
Or grov'ling soil'd their crested helmets in the dust 
Then with what trivial weapon came to hand. 
The jaw of a dead ass, his sword of bone, 
A thousand fore-skins fell, the flower of Palestine 
In Ramath-lechi, famous to this day : 
Then by main force pull'd up, and on his shoulders bore 
The gates of Azza, post, and massy bar. 
Up to the hill by Hebron, seat of giants old, 
No journey of a Sabbath da}% and loaded so ; 
Like whom the Gentiles feign to bear up heav'n. 
Which shall I first bewail, 
Thy bondage or lost sight 
Prison within prison 
Inseparably dark ? 

Thou art become, O worst imprisonment ! 
The dungeon of thyself ; thy soul, 

Which men enjoying sight oft witlaout cause complain, 
Imprison'd now indeed. 
In real darkness of the body dwells. 
Shut up from outward light, 
T' nicorporate with gloomy night ! 
For inw ard light, alas ! 





^i£;S 



r4% 




SAiWSON AGONISTES. 



49 





m-lr 



Puts forth no visual beam. 

mirror of our fickle state, 
Since man on earth unparallel'd ! 
The rarer thy example stands, 

By how much from the top of wondrous glorj- 

Strongest of mortal men, 

To lowest pitch of abject forttme thou art fall'n, 

For him I reckon not in high estate, 

Whom long descent of birth 

Or the sphere of fortune raises : 

But thee, whose strength, while virtue was her mate, 

Might have subdued the earth, 

Universally crown'd with highest praises. 

Sams. I hear the sound of words, their sense the air 
Dissolves unjointed ere it reach my ear. 

Chor. He speaks, let us draw nigh. Matchless in might. 
The glory late of Israel, now the grief, 
We come, thy friends and neighbours not unknown. 
From Eshtaol and Zora's fruitful vale. 
To visit or bewail thee, or, if better. 
Counsel or consolation we may bring. 
Salve to thy sores : apt words have power to swage 
The tumours of a troubled mind. 
And are as balm to fester'd wounds. 

Sams. Your coming, friends, revives me, for I learn 
Now of my own experience, not by talk. 
How counterfeit a coin they are who friends 
Bear in their superscription, of the most 

1 would be understood ; in prosperous daj'S 
They swarm, but in adverse withdraw their head, 
Not to be found, though sought. Ye see, O friends, 
How many evils have inclosed me round ; 

Yet that which was the worse now least afflicts me. 

Blindness, for had I sight, confused with shame, 

How could I once look up, or heave the head. 

Who, like a foolish pilot, have shipwreck'd 

My vessel trusted to me from above, 

Gloriously rigg'd ; and for a word, a tear, 

Fool ! have divulged the secret gift of God 

To a deceitful woman ? tell me, friends. 

Am I not sung and proverb'd for a fool 

In every street ? do the}^ not sa}', how well 

Are come vipon him his deserts ? yet why ? 

Immeasurable strength they might behold 

In me, of wisdom nothing more than mean ; 

This with the other should, at least, have pair'd, 

These two proportion'd ill drove me transverse. 

Chor. Tax not divine disposal : wisest men 
Have err'd, and by bad women been deceived ; 
And shall again, pretend the}- ne'er so wise. 



M 







50 



SA3fSON AGONISTES. 



\ 




^ 



Deject not then so overmucli thyself, 
Who hast of sorrow thy full load besides ; 
Yet, truth to say, I oft have heard men wonder 
Why thou shouldst wed Philistian women rather 
Than of thine own tribe fairer, or as fair 
At least of thy own nation, and as noble. 

Sams. The first I saw at Timna, and she pleased 
Me, not my parents, that I sought to wed 
The daughter of an infidel. They knew not 
That what I motion'd was of God ; I knew 
From intimate impulse, and therefore urged 
The marriage on ; that by occasion hence 
I might begin Israel's deliverance, 
The work to which I was divinely call'd. 
She proving false, the next I took to wife, 

that I never had ! fond wish too late ! 
Was in the vale of Sorec, Dalila, 

That specious monster, my accomplish'd snare. 

1 thought it lawful from my former act. 
And the same end, still watching to oppress 
Israel's oppressors. Of what now I suffer 
She was not the prime cause, but I myself. 

Who, vanquish'd with a peal of words, O weakness ! 
Gave up my fort of silence to a woman. 

Chor. In seeking just occasion to provoke 
The Philistine, thy country's enemy, 
Thou never wast remiss, I bear thee witness : 
Yet Israel still serves with all his sons 

Sams. That fault I take not on me, but transfer 
On Israel's governors, and heads of tribes, 
Who, seeing those great acts which God had done 
Singly by me against their conquerors. 
Acknowledged not, or not at all consider'd 
Deliverance offer'd. I on the other side 
Used no ambition to commend my deeds. 
The deeds themselves, though mute, spoke loud the doer, 
But they persisted deaf, and would not seem 
To count them things worth notice, till at length 
Their lords the Philistines with gather'd powers 
Enter'd Judea seeking me, who then 
Safe to the rock of Etham was retired, 
Not flying, but forecasting in what place 
To set upon them, what advantaged best. 
Meanwhile the men of Judah, to prevent 
The harass of their land, beset me round ; 
I willingly on some conditions came 
Into their hands, and they as gladly yield me 
To the uncircumcised a welcome prey, 
Bound with two cords : but cords to me were threads 
Touch'd with the flame. On their whole host I flew 




^ 







SAJ/SOX .1l;JAVST£S. 

Uuarm'd, and \\'ith a trivial weapon fell'd 
Their choicest youth ; they only lived who fled. 
Had Judah that day join'd, or one whole tribe, 
They had by this possess'd the towers of Gath, 
And lorded over them whom now they serve : 
But what more oft in nations grown corrupt, 
And by their vices brought to servitude, 
Than to love bondage more than liberty, 
Bondage with ease than strenuous liberty ; 
And to despise, or envy, or suspect 
Whom God hath of his special favour raised 
As their deliverer? If he aught begin, 
How frequent to desert him, and at last 
To heap ingratitude on v/orthiest deeds ? 

Chor. Th}^ words to my remembrance bring 
How Succoth and the fort of Penuel 
Their great deliverer contemn'd, 
The matchless Gideon in pursuit 
Of Madian and her vanquish'd kings : 
And how ingrateful Ephraim 
Had dealt with Jephtha, who by argument, 
Not worse than by his shield and spear, 
Defended Israel from the Ammonite, 
Had not his prowess quell'd their pride 
In that sore battle, when so many died 
Without reprieve adjudged to death, 
For want of well pronouncing Shibboleth. 

Sams. Of such examples add me to the roll. 
Me easily indeed mine may neglect, 
But God's proposed deliverance not so. 

Chor. Just are the ways of God, 
And justifiable to men ; 
Unless there be who think not God at all : 
If any be, they walk obscure ; 
For of such doctrine never was there school. 
But the heart of the fool, 
And no man therein doctor but himself 

Yet more there be who doubt His ways not just. 
And to His own edicts found contradicting. 
Then give the reins to wand'ring thought. 
Regardless of His glorv^'s diminution ; 
Till, by their own perplexities involved, 
They ravel more, still less resolved. 
But never find self-satisfying solution. 

As if they would confine th' Interminable 
And tie Him to His own prescript. 
Who made our laws to bind us, not Himself, 
And hath full right to exempt 
Whom so it pleases Him by choice 
From national obstriction, without taint 



51 




^ 



1,3^ 




^ 



52 



SAMSON AGONISTES. 



Of sin, or legal debt ; 

For with His own laws He can best dispense. 

He would not else, who never wanted means, 
Nor in respect of th' enemy just cause 
To set his people free. 
Have prompted this heroic Nazarite, 
Against his vow of strictest purity, 
To seek in marriage that fallacious bride, 
Unclean, unchaste, 

Down reason then, at least vain reasonings down, 
Though reason here aver 
That moral verdict quits her of unclean : 
Unchaste was subsequent, her stain not his. 

But, see ! here comes thy reverend sire 
With careful step, locks white as down, 
Old Manoah ; advise 
Forthwith how thou ought'st to receive him. 

Sams. Aye me ! another inward grief awaked 
With mention of that name renews th' assault. 

Man. Brethren and men of Dan, for such ye seem, 
Though in this uncouth place ; if old respect, 
As I suppose, towards your once gloried friend, 
•My son now captive, hither hath inform'd 
Your younger feet, while mine cast back with age 
Came lagging after ; say if he be here. 

Chor. As signal now in low dejected state, 
As erst in highest, behold him where he lies. 

Man. O miserable change ! is this the man. 
That invincible Samson, far renown 'd. 
The dread of Israel's foes, who with a strength 
Equivalent to angels walk'd their streets. 
None offering fight ; who single combatant 
Duell'd their armies rank'd in proud array, 
Himself an army, now unequal match 
To save himself against a coward arm'd 
At one spear's length. O ever-failing trust 
In mortal strength ! and, oh ! what not in man 
Deceivable and vain ? nay, what thing good, 
Pray'd for, but often proves our woe, our bane ? 
I pray'd for children, and thought barrenness 
In wedlock a reproach ; I gain'd a son. 
And such a son as all men hail'd me happy : 
Who would be now a father in my stead ? 
O wherefore did^ God grant me my request, 
And as a blessing with such pomp adorn' d ? 
Why are His gifts desirable, to tempt 
Our earnest pray'rs, then, giv'n with solemn hand 
As graces, draw a scorpion's tail behind? 
For this did th' angel twice descend? for this 
Ordain'd thy nurture holy, as of a plant 



:i 




''t^ 



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*°^K 




-f^ 



SAMSOM AGONISTES. 



53 



it' 



Select and sacred, glorious for a while, 
The miracle of men ; then in an hour 
Ensnared, assaulted, overcome, led bound, 
Thy foes' derision, captive, poor, and blind, 
Into a dungeon thrust to work with slaves ? 
Alas ! methinks whom God hath chosen once 
To worthiest deeds, if he through frailty err. 
He should not so o'erwhelm, and as a thrall 
Subject him to so foul indignities, 
Be it but for honour's sake of former deeds. 

Sams. Appoint not heav'nly disposition, father ; 
Nothing of all these evils hath befall' n me 
But justly ; I myself have brought them on. 
Sole author I, sole cause ; if aught seem vile, 
As vile hath been my folly, who have profaned 
The mystery of GOD giv'n me under pledge 
Of vow, and have betray'd it to a woman, 
A Canaanite, my faithless enemy. 
This well I knew, nor was at all surprised, 
But warn'd by oft experience : did not she 
Of Timna first betray me, and reveal 
The secret wrested from me in her highth 
Of nuptial love profest, caiTying it straight 
To them who had corrupted her, my spies 
And rivals ? In this other was there found 
More faith, w^ho also in her prime of love, 
Spousal embraces, vitiated with gold, 
Though offer' d only, by the scent conceived 
Her spurious first-born, treason against me ? 
Tiirice she assaj^'d with flattering prayers, and sighs. 
And amorous reproaches, to win from me 
My capital secret, in what part my strength 
Lay stored, in what part sunim'd, that she might know; 
Thrice I deluded her, and turn'd to sport 
Her importunity, each time perceiving 
How openly and with what impudence 
She purposed to betray me, and which was worse 
Than undissembled hate, with what contempt 
She sought to make me traitor to myself; 
Yet the fourth time, when, mustering all her wiles. 
With blandish' d parlies, feminine assaults. 
Tongue-batteries, she surceased not day nor night 
To storm me over-watch'd and wearied out. 
At times when men seek most repose and rest, 
I yielded, and unlock'd her all my heart. 
Who with a grain of manhood well resolved 
Might easily have shook off all her snares : 
But foul effeminacy held me yoked 
Her bond-slave ; O indignity ! O blot 
To honour and religion ! servile mind 










^-^ 



54 



SAMSON AGONISTES. 



^ 





Rewarded well with servile punishment ! 
The base degree to which I now am fall'n, 
These rags, this grinding, is not yet so base 
As was my former servitude, ignoble, 
Unmanly, ignominious, infamous, 
True slavery, and that blindness worse than this. 
That saw not how degenerately I served. 

Man. I cannot praise thy marriage choices, son, 
Rather approved them not ; but thou didst plead 
Di\ane impulsion prompting how thou might'st 
Find some occasion to infest our foes. 
I state not that ; this I am sure, our foes 
Found soon occasion thereby to make thee 
Their captive and their triumph ; thou the sooner 
Temptation found'st, or over-potent charms 
To violate the sacred trust of silence 
Deposited within thee ; which to have kept 
Tacit, was in thy power. True : and thou bear'st 
Enough and more the burthen of that fault ; 
Bitterly hast thou paid, and still art paying 
That rigid score. A worse thing j-et remains. 
This day the Philistines a popular feast 
Here celebrate in Gaza ; and proclaim 
Great pomp, and sacrifice, and praises loud 
To Dagon, as their god, who hath deliver'd 
Thee, Samson, bound and blind into their hands. 
Them o\xi of thine, who slew'st them many a slain. 
So Dagon shall be magnified, and God, 
Besides whom is no God, compared with idols, 
Disglorified, blasphemed, and had in scorn 
By the idolatrous rout amidst their wine ; 
Which to have come to pass by means of thee, 
Samson, of all thy sufferings think the heaviest, 
Of all reproach the most with shame that ever 
Could havebefall'n thee and thy father's house. 

Sams. Father, I do acknowledge and confess 
That I this honour, I this pomp, have brought 
To Dagon, and advanced his praises high 
Among the heathen round ; to God have brought 
Dishonour, obloquy, and oped the mouths 
Gf idolists and atheists ; have brought scandal 
To Israel, diffidence of God, and doubt 
In feeble hearts, pi opense enough before 
To waver, or fall off, and join with idols; 
Which is my chief afiliction, shame, and sorrow, 
The anguish of my soul, that suffers not 
Mine e>e to harbour sleep, or thoughts to rest. 
This only hope relieves me, that tlie strife 
With me hath end ; all the contest is now 
'Twixt God and Dagon ; Dagon hath presumed, 




ter..:'*: ■♦ % 





SAMSON AGONISTES. 



55 



r 




^fej, 




Me overthrown, to enter lists with God, 
His deit}' comparing and preferring 
Before the God of Abraham. He, be sure, 
Will not connive, or linger, thus provoked, 
But will arise, and His great name assert: 
Dagon must stoop, and shall ere long receive 
Such a discomfit, as shall quite dispoil him 
Of all these boasted trophies won on me. 
And wnth confusion blank his worshippers. 

Man. With cause this hope relieves thee, and these words 
I as a prophecy receive : for God, 
Nothing more certain, will not long defer 
To ^•indicate the glory of His name 
Against all competition, nor will long 
Endure it, doubtful whether God be lord. 
Or Dagon. Biit for thee w'hat shall be done? 
Thou must not in the meanwhile here forgot 
Lie in this miserable loathsome plight 
Neglected. I already have made way 
To some Philistian lords, with whom to treat 
About thy ransom : well they may by this 
Have satisfied their utmost of revenge 
By pains and slaveries, worse than death, inflicted 
On thee, who now no more canst do them harm. 

Sams. Spare that proposal, father, spare the trouble 
Of that solicitation : let me here. 
As I deserve, pay on my punishment, 
And expiate, if possible, my crime. 
Shameful garrulity. To have reveal'd 
Secrets of men, the secrets of a friend, 
How heinous had the fact been, how deserving 
Contemiit and scorn of all, to be excluded 
All friendship, and avoided as a blab. 
The mark of fool set on his front ? 
But I God's counsel have not kept. His hoh^ secret 
Presumptuously have publish'd, impiousl}'. 
Weakly at least, and shamefully ; a sin 
That Gentiles in their parables condemn 
To their ab^'ss and horrid pains confined. 

Man. Be penitent and for thy fault contrite, 
But act not in thy own affliction, son ; 
Repent the sin, but if the punishment 
Thou canst avoid, self-preservation bids ; 
Or th' execution leave to high disposal, 
And let another hand, not thine, exact 
Thy penal forfeit from thyself ; perhaps 
Gfin will relent, and quit thee all His debt. 
Who evermore approves and more accepts, 
Best pleased with humble and filial submission. 
Him who imploring mercy sues for life, 





^^^s. 






-J*i^Sr=^-, -*^1 




56 



SAMSON AGONISTES. 



Than who self-rigorous chooses death as due, 
Which argues over-just, and self-displeased 
For self-offence, more than for God offended. 
Reject not then what offer'd means : who knows 
But God hath set before us, to return thee 
Home to thy country and His sacred house, 
Where thou may'st bring thy off'i'ings, to avert 
His further ire, with praj-ers and vows renew'd ? 

Sams. His pardon I implore ; but as for life, 
To what end should I seek it ? when in strength 
All mortals I excell'd, and great in hopes 
With youthful courage and magnanimous thoughts 
Of birth from heav'n foretold, and high exploits, 
Full of divine instinct, after some proof 
Of acts indeed heroic, far beyond 
The sons of Anak, famous now and blazed, 
Fearless of danger, like a petty God 
I walk'd about, admired of all and dreaded, 
On hostile ground, none daring my affront. 
Then swoll'n with pride into the snare I fell 
Of fair fallacious looks, venereal trains, 
Soften'd with pleasure and voluptuous life ; 
At length to lay my head and hallow'd'pledge 
Of all my strength in the lascivious lap 
Of a deceitful concubine, who shore me. 
Like a tame wether, all my precious fleece, 
Then turn'd me out ridiculous, despoil'd, 
Shav'n, and disarm'd, among mine enemies. 

Chor. Desire of wine and all delicious drinks, 
AVhich many a famous warrior overturns. 
Thou couldst repress, nor did the dancing ruby 
Sparkling, out-pour' d, the flavour, or the smell, 
Or taste that cheers the hearts of Gods and men, 
Alhxre thee from the cool crystalline stream. 

Saims. Wherever fountain or fresh current flow'd 
Against the eastern ray, translucent, pure. 
With touch ethereal of heav'n's fiery rod, 
I drank, from the clear milky juice allaying 
Thirst, and refresh d ; nor envied them the grape, 
Wliose heads that turbulent liquor fills with fumes. 

Chor. O madness, to think iise of strongest wines 
And strongest drinks our chief support of health. 
When God with these forbidden made choice to rear 
His mighty champion, strong above compare. 
Whose drink was only from the liquid brook. 

Sams. But what avaii'd this temperance, not complete 
Against another object more enticing ? 
What boots it at one gate to make defence, 
And at another to let in the foe. 
Effeminately vanquisli'd ? by which means. 





k^,^^ 




SAMSOiV AGONISTES. 



57 




b 



I.A 



%,_ 



Now blind, dishearten 'd, shamed, dishonour'd, quell'd, 

To what can I be useful, wherein serve 

My nation, and the work from heav'n imposed. 

But to sit idle on the household hearth, 

A burd'nous drone ; to \T.sitants a gaze, 

Or pitied object, these redundant locks 

Robustious to no purpose clust'ring down, 

Vain monument of strength, till length of years 

And sedentary numbness craze my limbs 

To a contemptible old age obscure ? 

Here rather let me drudge and earn mj- bread, 

Till vermin or the draff of servile food 

Consume me, and oft invocated death 

Hasten the welcome end of all my pains. 

Man. Wilt thou then serve the Philistines with that gift 
Which was expressly giv'n thee to annoy them ? 
Better at home lie bedrid, not only idle, 
Inglorious, unemploy'd, with age outworn. 
But God, who caused a fountain at thy pra}er 
From the drj' ground to spring, thy thirst to allay 
After the brunt of battle, can as easy 
Cause light again within thy eyes to spring, 
Wherewith to serve him better than thou hast ; 
And I persuade me so ; why else this strength 
■Miraculous j-et remaining in those locks? 
His might continues in. thee not for nought, 
Nor shall His wondrous gifts be frustrate thus. 

Sams. All other-wise to me my thoughts portend, 
That these dark orbs no more shall treat with light. 
Nor the other light of life continue long, 
But yield to double darkness nigh at hand : 
vSo much I feel my genial spirits droop, 
I\Iy hopes all flat, nature within me seems 
In all her functions weary of herself, 
l\ly race of glory run, and race of shame, 
And I shall shortly be with them that rest. 

Max. Believe not these siiggestions, which proceed 
From anguish of the mind and humours black, 
That mingle with thy fancy, I however 
Must not omit a father's timely care 
To prosecute the means of thy deliverance 
By ransom or how else : meanwhile be calm. 
And healing words from these thy friends admit. 

Sams. O that torment should not be confined 
To the body's wounds and sores, 
With maladies innumerable 
In heart, head, breast, and reins ; 
But must secret passage find 
To th' inmost mind, 
There exercise all his fierce accidents, 




>-^-^^i) ^-^^--^Irs:^ 





58 



SAJ/SON AGONISrES. 





Aud on her purest spirits prey, 
As on entrails, joints, and limbs. 
With answerable pains, but more intense, 
Though void of corporal sense. 

My griefs not only pain me 
As a ling'ring disease, 
But, finding no redress, ferment and rage, 
Nor less than wounds immedicable 
Rankle, and fester, and gangrene, 
To black mortification. 

Thoughts my tormentors, arm'd vrith deadly stings, 
Mangle my apprehensive tenderest parts, 
Exasperate, exulcerate, and raise 
Dire inflammation, which no cooling herb, 
Or medicinal liquor can assuage. 
Nor breath of vernal air from snowy Alp. 
Sleep hath forsook and given me o'er 
To death's benumbing opium as my only cure : 
Thence faintings, swoonings of despair, ' 
And sense of heav'n's desertion. 

I was His nursling once, and choice delight. 
His destined from the womb, 

Promised by heavenly message twice descending : 
Under His special eye 
Abstemious I grew up and thrived amain ; 
He led me on to mightiest deeds. 
Above the nerve of mortal arm. 
Against the uncircumcised, our enemies : 
But now hath cast me off as never known, 
And to those cruel enemies, 
Whom I by His appointment had provoked. 
Left me all helpless wdth the irreparable loss 
Of sight, reserved alive to be repeated 
The subject of their cruelty and scorn. 
Nor am I in the list of them that hope ; 
Hopeless are all my evils, all remediless ; 
This one prayer j-et remains, might I be heard, 
No long petition, speedy death, 
The close of all my miseries, and the balm. 

Chor. Many are the sayings of the wise, 
In ancient and in modern books enroll'd, 
Extolling patience as the truest fortitude ; 
And to the bearing well of all calamities, 
All chances incident to man's frail life, 
Consolatories writ 

With studied argument, and much persuasion sought, 
Lenient of grief and anxious thought : 
But with the afflicted in his pangs their sound 
Little prevails, or rather seems a tune 
Harsh and of dissonant mood from his complaint ; 





.%. 





SAJ/SO.V AGO.YISTES. 



59 





Unless he feel within 
Some source of consolation from above, 
Secret refreshings, that repair his strength, 
And fainting spirits uphold. 

God of our fathers, what is man ! 
That thou towards him with hand so various, 
Or may I say contrarious, 

Temper'st thy providence through his short course, 
Not ev'nly, as thou rul'st 

Th' angelic orders and inferior creatures mute. 
Irrational and brute. 

Nor do I name of men the common rout. 
That wand'ring loose about , 

Grow up and perish, as the summer fly, 
Heads without name no more remember'd, 
But such as thou hast solemnly elected. 
With gifts and graces eminently adorn'd 
To some great work, thy glory, 
And people's safety, which in part thej' effect : 
Yet toward these thus dignified, thou oft 
Amidst their highth of noon, 

Changest thy countenance, and thy hand with no regard 
Of highest favours past 
From thee on them, or them to thee of service. 

Nor onl}- dost degrade them, or remit 
To life obscured, which were a fair dismission. 
But throw'st them lower than thou didst exalt them high. 
Unseemly falls in human ej'C, 
Too grievous for the trespass of omission ; 
Oft leav'st them to the hostile sword 
Of heathen and profane, their carcases 
To dogs and fowls a prey, or else captived ; 
Or to the unjust tribunals, under change of times, 
And condemnation of the ingrateful multitude. 
If these they scape, perhaps in poverty 
With sickness and disease thou bow'st them down, 
Painful diseases and deform' d, 
In crude old age : 

Though not disordinate, yet causeless suff""ring 
The punishment of dissolute days : in fine, 
Just or unjust, alike seem miserable, 
For oft alike both come to evil end. 

So deal not with this once thy glorious champion. 
The image of thy strength, and mighty minister. 
What do I beg ? how hast thou dealt already ! 
Behold him in this state calamitous, and turn 
His labours, for thou canst, to peaceful end. 

But who is this ? what thing of sea or land ? 
Female of sex it seems. 
That so bedeck'd, ornate, and gay, 







6o 



SAilfSO.V AGONISTES. 







Comes this way sailing • 

Like a stately ship 

Of Tarsus, bound for th' isles 

Of Javau or Gadire, 

With all her bravery on, and tackle trim. 

Sails fiU'd, and streamers waving, 

Courted by all the winds that hold them play, 

An amber scent of odorous perfume 

Her harbingei', a damsel train behind ; 

Some rich Philistian matron she may seem, 

And now, at nearer view, no other certain 

Than Dalila thy wife. 

Sams. My wife ! my traitress : let her not come near me, 

Chor. Yet on shemoVes, now stands and eyes thee tix'd, 
About t' have spoke, but now, with head declined. 
Like a fair flow'r surcharged with dew, she weeps. 
And words address'd seem into tears dissolved, 
Wetting the borders of her silken veil : 
But now again she makes address to speak. 

Dal. With doubtful feet and wavering resolution 
I came, still dreading thy displeasure, Samson, 
Which to have merited, without excuse, 
I cannot but acknowledge ; yet if tears 
May expiate, though the fact more evil drew 
In the perverse event than I foresaw. 
My penance hath not slacken'd, though m}' pardon 
No way assured : but conjugal affection, 
Prevailing over fear and timorous doubt. 
Hath led me on, desirous to behold 
Once more thy face, and know of thy^state. 
If aught in my ability may ser\-e 
To lighten what thou suffer'st, and appease 
Thy mind M'ith what amends is in my power, 
Though late, yet in some part to recompense 
My rash, but more unfortunate, misdeed. 

Sams. Out, out, hysena ! these are thy wonted art'^, 
And arts of every woman false like thee. 
To break all faith, all vows, deceive, betray 
Then, as repentant, to submit, beseech. 
And recojicilement move with feign'd remorse. 
Confess, and promise wonders in her change. 
Not truly penitent, but chief to tiy 
Her husband, how far urged his patience bears, 
His virtue or weakness which way to assail ; 
Then with more cautious and instructed skill 
Again transgresses, and again submits ; 
That wisest and best men full oft beguiled, 
With goodness principled not to reject 
The penitent, but ever to forgive. 
Are drawn to wear out miserable davs, 






{, 



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SAJ/SOj\' AG'OX/STBS. 



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Entangled with a pois'nous bosom snake, 

If not bj^ quick destruction soon cut off, 

As I by thee, to ages an example. 

Dal. Yet hear me, Samson ; not that I endeavour 

To lessen or extenuate my offence. 

But that, on th' other side if it be weigh' d 

By itself, with aggravations not surcharged, 

Or els^ith just allowance counterpoised, 

I mav, if possible, thy pardon iind 

The easier towards me, or thy hatred less. 

First granting, as I do, it was a weakness 

In me, but incident to all our sex, 

Curiosity, inquisitive, importune 

Of secrets, then with like infirmity 

To publish them, both common female faults : 

Was it not weakness also to make known 

For importunity, that is, for nought. 

Wherein consisted all thy strength and safety ? 

To what I did thou show'dst me first the way. 

But I to enemies reveal'd, and should not ; 

Nor shouldst thou have trusted that to woman's frailty. 

Ere I to thee, thou to thyself wast cruel. 

Let weakness then with weakness come to parle, 

So near related, or the same of kind. 

Thine forgive mine ; that men may censure thme 

The gentler, if severely thou exact not 

More strength from me than in thyself was found. 

And what if love, which thou interpret'st hate, 

The jealousy of love, powerful of sway 

In human hearts, nor less in mine towards thee. 

Caused what I did? I saw thee mutable 

Of fancy, fear'd lest one day thou would'st leave me 

As her atTimna, sought by all means therefore 

How to endear, and hold thee to me firmest : 

No better way I saw than by importuning 

To learn thy secrets, get into my power 

Thy key of strength and safety. Thou wilt say, 

Why then reveal'd? I was assured by those 

Who tempted me, that nothing was design'd 

Against thee but safe custody and hold : 

That made for me ; I knew that liberty 

Would draw thee forth to perilous enterprises. 

While I at home sat full of cares and fears, 

Wailing thy absence in my widow'd bed : 

Here I'should still enjoy thee day and night,^ 

Mine and love's prisoner, not the Philistines', 

Whole to myself, uuhazarded abroad. 

Fearless «t home of partners in my love. 

These reasons in love's law have past for good, 

Though fond and reasonk-s^ to snme perhaps ; 






■Hi 




-^m^^fiit^^^'^ 





62 



SAMSON ACONISTES. 




And love hath oft, well meaning, wrought much woe, 

Yet always pity or pardon hath obtain'd. 

Be not unlike all others, not austere 

As thou art strong, inflexible as steel. 

If thou in strength all mortals dost exceed, 

In uncompassionate anger do not so. 

Sams. How cunningly the sorceress displays 
Her own transgressions, to upbraid me mine ! % 
That malice not repentance brought thee hither, 
By this appears : I gave, thou say'st, th' example, 
I led the way ; bitter reproach, but true ; 
I to myself was false ere thou to me ; 
Such pardon therefore as I give my folly. 
Take to thy wicked deed ; which when thou seest 
Impartial, self-severe, inexorable, 
Thou wilt renounce thy seeking, and much rather 
Confess it feign'd ; weakness is thy excuse. 
And I believe it, weakness to resist 
Philistian gold ; if weakness may excuse, 
What murderer, what traitor, parricide. 
Incestuous, sacrilegious, bvit may plead it ? 
All wickedness is weakness : that plea therefore 
With God or man will gain thee no remission. 
But love constrain'd thee ; call it furious rage 
To satisfy thy lust. Love seeks to have love : 
My love how could'st thou hope, who took'st the way 
To raise in me inexpiable hate, 
Knowing, as needs I must, by thee betray'd ? 
In vain thou striv'st to cover shame with shame, 
Or by evasions thy crime uncover'st more. 

Dai,. Since thou determin'st weakness for no plea 
In man or woman, though to thy own condemning, 
Hear what assaults I had, what snares besides, 
What sieges girt me round, ere I consented. 
Which might have awed the best resolved of men, 
The constantest, to have yielded without blame. 
It was not gold, as to my charge thou lay'st, 
That wrought with me. Thou know'st tlie magistrates 
And princes of my country came in person, 
vSolicited, commanded, threaten'd, urged, 
Adjured by all the bonds of civil duty 
And of religion, press'd how just it was. 
How honourable, how glorious, to entrap 
A common enemy, who has destroy'd 
Such numbers of our nation : and the priest 
Was not behind, but ever at my ear, 
Preaching how meritorious with the gods 
It would be to ensnare an irreligious 
Dishonourer of Dagon. What had I 
T' oppose against such powerful arguments ? 



~^~1.^-'>".'^; 



!■ 




^-.-.... 





SAMSON AGONISTES. 



(^3 





-^ 



Onl}' m}- love of tliee lield long debate, 

And combatted in silence all tuese reasons 

With hard contest : at length that grounded maxim, 

So rife and celebrated in the mouths 

Of wisest men, that to the public good 

Private respects must yield with grave authoritj' 

Took full possession of nie and prevail'd ; 

Virtue, as I thought, truth, dut}-, so enjoining. 

Sams. I thought where all thy circling wiles would end ; 
In feign 'd religion, smooth hypocrisy. 
But had thy love, still odiously pretended. 
Been, as it ought, sincere, it would have taught thee 
Far other reasonings, brought forth other deeds. 
I, before all the daughters of my tribe 
And of my nation, chose thee from among 
My enemies, loved thee, as too well thou knew'st, 
Too well, unbosom 'd all my secrets to thee, 
Not out of levity, but over-power'd 
B}- thy request, who could denj- thee nothing ; 
Yet now am judged an enemy. Why then 
Didst thou at first receive me for thy husband, 
Then, as since then, thy country's foe profess'd? 
Being once a wife, for me thou wast to leave 
Parents and country ; nor was I their subject. 
Nor under their protection but my own, 
Thou mine, not theirs. If aught against my life 
Thy country sought of thee, it sought unjustly, 
Agaust the law of nature, law of nations. 
No more thy country, but an impious crew 
Of men, conspiring to uphold their state 
By worse than hostile deeds, violating the ends 
For which our country is a name so dear ; 
Not therefore to be obey'd. But zeal moved thee ; 
To please thy gods thou didst it , gods unable 
To acquit themselves and prosecute their foes 
But by ungodly deeds, the contradiction 
Of their own deity, gods cannot be ; 
Less therefore to be pleased, obey'd, or fear'd. 
These false pretexts and varnish'd colours failing. 
Bare in thy guilt how foul must thou appear ? 

D.\L. In argument with men a woman ever 
Goes by the worse, whatever be her cause. 

Sams. For want of vrords, no doubt, or lack of breath, 
Witness when I was worried with thy peals. 

Dal. I was a fool, too rash, and quite mistaken 
In what I thought would have succeeded best. 
Let me obtain forgiveness of thee, Samson, 
Afford me place to show what recompense 
Towards thee I intend for what I have nnsdone, 
Sl-b uided ; only what remains past cure 



I^E*^ 




.z 





'^\%^ \ \ 




64 



SAMSON AGONISTES. 



Bear not too sensibly, not still insist 

To afflict thyself in vain. Though sight be lost, 

Life yet hath many solaces, enjoy 'd 

Where other senses want not their delights 

At home in leisure and domestic ease, 

Exempt from many a care and chance to which 

Eyesight exposes daily men abroad. 

I to the lords will intercede, not doubting 

Their favourable ear, that I may fetch thee 

From forth this loathsome prison-house, to abide 

With me, where my redoubled love and care 

With nursing diligence, to me glad office, 

May ever tend about thee to old age. 

With all things grateful cheer' d, and so supplied. 

That what by me thou hast lost thou least shall miss. 

Sams. No, no ; of my condition take no care ; 
It fits not ; thou and I long since are twain ; 
Nor think me so unwary or accurst. 
To bring my feet again into the snare 
Where once I have been caught : I know thy trains 
Though dearly to my cost ; thy gins, and toils. 
Thy fair enchanted cup and warbling charms 
No more on me have power, their force is uuU'd ; 
So miich of adder's wisdom I have learnt 
To fence ray ear against thy sorceries. 
If in my flower of youth and strength, when all men 
IvOved, iionour'd, fear'd me, thou alone couidst hate me 
Thy husband, slight me, sell me, and forego me ; 
How wouldst thou use me now, blind, and thereby 
Deceivable, in most things as a child 
Helpless, thence easily contemn'd, and scorn'd, 
And last neglected? how wouldst thou insult, 
When I must live uxorious to thy will 
In perfect thraldom, how again betray me, 
Bearing my words and doings to the lords 
To gloss upon, and censuring, frown or smile? 
This gaol I count the house of liberty 
To thine, whose doors my feet shall never enter. 

DaIv. Let me approach at least and touch thy hand. 

Sams. Not for thy life, lest fierce remembrance wake 
My sudden rage to tear thee joint by joint. 
At distance I forgive thee, go with that. 
Bewail thy falsehood, and the pious works 
It hath brought forth to make thee memorable 
Among illustrious women, faithful wives : 
Cherish thy hasten'd widowhood with the gold 
Of matrimonial treason : so farewell. 

DAiy. I see thou art implacable, more deaf 
To pra3'ers than winds and seas, yet winds to seas 
Are reconciled at length, and sea to shore : 










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SAJ/SOiV AGON/STES. 



65 




Thy anger unappeasable still rages, 

Eternal tempest never to be calm'd. 

Why do I humble. thus myself, and, suing 

For peace, reap nothing but repulse and hate? 

Bid go with evil omen and the brand 

Of infamy upon my name denounced ? 

To mix with thy concernments I desist 

Henceforth, nor too much disapprove my own. 

Fame if not double-faced is double-mouth'd, 

And with contrary blasts proclaims most deeds 

On both his wings, one black, the other white, 

Bears greatest names in his wild aery flight. 

My name perhaps among the circumcised, 

In Dan, in Judah, and the bordering tribes, 

To all posterity may stand defamed. 

With malediction mention' d, and the blot 

Of falsehood most unconjugal traduced. 

But in my country where I most desire, 

In Ecron, Gaza, Asdod, and in Gath, 

I shall be named among the famousest 

Of women, sung at solemn festivals, 

Living and dead recorded, who to save 

Her country from a fierce destroyer, chose 

Above the faith of wedlock-bands, my tomb 

With odours visited and annual flowers ; 

Not less renown'd than in Mount Ephraim 

Jael, who with inhospitable guile 

Smote Sisera sleeping throi:gh the temple nail'd. 

Nor shall I count it heinous to enjoy 

The public marks of honour and reward 

Conferr'd upon me, for the piety 

W^hich to my country I was judged to have shown. 

At this who ever envies or repines, 

I leave him to his lot, and like my own. 

Chor. She's gone, a manifest serpent by her sting 
Discover'd in the end, till now conceal'd. 

Sams. So let her go : God sent her to debase me, 
And aggravate my folh', who committed 
To such a viper His most sacred trust 
Of secrecy, my safety, and my life. 

Chor. Yet beauty, though injiurious, hath strange power. 
After offence returning, to regain 
Love once possess'd, nor can be easily 
Repulsed, without much inward passion felt 
And secret sting of amorous remorse. 

Sams. Love-quarrels oft in pleasing concord end ; 
Not wedlock-treacher}- endang'ring life. 

Chor. It is not virtue, wisdom, valour, wit. 
Strength, comeliness of shape, or amplest merit, 
That woman's love can win or long inherit ; 



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SAMSON AGONISTES. 




M; 



But what it is, hard is to say, 

Harder to hit, 

Which way soever men refer it, 

Much like thy riddle, Samson, in one day 

Or seven, though one should musing sit. 

If any of these or all, the Tininian bride 
Had not so soon preferr'd 
Thy paranymph worthless to thee compared, 
Successor in thy bed, 
Nor both so loosely disallied 
Their nuptials, nor this last so treacherously 
Had shorn the fatal harvest of thy head. 
Is it for that such outward ornament 
Was lavish 'd on their sex, that inward gifts 
Were left for haste unfinish'd, judgment scant, 
Capacity not raised to apprehend 
Or value what is best 
In choice, but oftest to affect the wrong ? 
Or was too miich of self-love mix'd, 
Of constancy no root infix'd, 
That either they love nothing, or not long ? 

Whate'er it be to wisest men and best 
Seeming at first all heav'nly under virgin veil, 
Soft, modest, meek, demure, 
Once join'd, the contrary she proves, a thorn 
Intestine, far within defensive arms 
A cleaving mischief, in his way to virtue 
Adverse and turbulent, or by her charms 
Draws him awry enslaved 
With dotage, and his sense depraved 
To folly and shameful deeds which ruin ends. 
What pilot so expert but needs mu.st wreck, 
Inibark'd with such a steers-mate at the helm ? 

Favour'd of heav'n who finds 
One virtuous, rarely found. 
That in domestic good combines : 
Happy that house ! his way to peace is smooth ; 
But virtue, which breaks through all opposition, 
And all temptation can remove. 
Most shines and most is acceptable above. 
Therefore God's universal law- 
Gave to the man despotic power 
Over his female in due awe. 
Nor from that right to part an hour, 
Smile she or lour : 
So shall he least confusion draw 
On his whole life, not sway'd 
By female usuq^ation, or dismay'd. 

But had we best retire ? I see a storm. 

Sams. Fair days have oft contracted wind and rain. 





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67 



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1 



Chor. But this another kind of tempest brings. 

Sams. Be less abstruse, my riddling days are past. 

Chor. l/ook now for no enchanting voice, nor fear 
The bait of honied words ; a rougher tongiie 
Draws hitherward, I know him by his stride. 
The giant Harapha of Gath, his look 
Haughty as is his pile high-built and proud. 
Comes he in peace ? what wind hath blown him hither 
I less conjecture than when first I saw 
The sumptuous Dalila floating this way : 
His habit carries peace, his brow defiance. 

Sams. Or peace or not, alike to me he comes. 

Chor. His fraught we soon shall know, he now arrives. 

Har. I come not, Samson, to condole thy chance. 
As these perhaps, yet wish it had not been. 
Though for no friendly intent. I am of Gath, 
Men call me Harapha, of stock renown'd 
As Og, or Anak, and the Eminis old 
That Kiriathaim held ; thou know'st me now 
If thou at all art known. Much I have heard 
Of thy prodigious might and feats perform'd. 
Incredible to me, in this displeased. 
That I was never present on the place 
Of those encounters, where we might have tried 
Each other's force in camp or listed field : 
And now am come to see of whom such noise 
Hath walk'd about, and each limb to survey, 
If thy appearance answer loud report. 

Sams. The way to know were not to see but taste. 

Har. Dost thou already single me ? I thought 
Gyves and the mill had tamed thee. O that fortune 
Had brought me to the field where thou art famed 
To have wrought such wonders wnth an ass's jaw ! 
I should have forced thee soon with other arms. 
Or left thy carcass where the ass lay thrown ; 
So had the glory of prowess been recover'd 
To Palestine, won by a Philistine 
From the uuforeskinn'd race, of whom thou bear st 
The highest name for valiant acts : that honour 
Certain to have won by mortal duel from thee, 
I lose, prevented by thy eyes put out. 

Sams. Boast not of what thou wouldst have done, but do 
What then thou wouldst, thou seest it in thy hand. 

Har. To combat with a blind man I disdain. 
And thou hast need much washing to be touch'd. 

Sams. Such usage as your honourable lords 
Afford me assassinated and betray'd, 
Who durst not with their whole united powers 
In fight withstand me single and unarm'd, 
Nor in the house with chamber ambushes 



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6S SAMSON AGONISTES. 

Close-banded durst attack me, no not sleeping, 
\ I \ ' |j||i Till they had hired a woman with their gold. 




Breaking her marriage faith to circumvent me. 
Therefore without feign'd shifts let be assign'd 
I Some narrow place inclosed, where sight may give thee, 

L \ \> ' Or rather flight, no great advantage on me ; 

ALt\ hP Then put on all thy gorgeous arms, thy helmet 

-^ \ And brigandine of brass, thy broad habergeon, 
A Vant-brass and greves, and gauntlet, add thy spear, 

A weaver's beam, and seven-times-folded shield, 
• '4 I only with an oaken staff will meet thee, 

I And raise such outcries on thy clatter'd iron, 

Which long shall not withhold me from tin' head, 
j That in a little time, while breath remains thee, 

i' Thou oft shalt wish thyself at Gath to boast 

, Again in safety what thou wouldst have done 

, \\, To Samson, but shall never see Gath more. 

Har. Thou durst not thus disparage glorious arms, 
■~„^ Which greatest heroes have in battle worn, 

-' Their ornament and safety, had not spells 

And black enchantment, some magician's art, 
I Arm'dthee, or charm'dtheestrong, which thou from heav'n 

1'] Feign'dst at thy birth was giv'n thee in thy hair, 

"i Where strength can least abide, though all thy hairs 

I Were bristles ranged like those that ridge the back 

jl ! Of chafed wild boars or ruffled porcupines. 

ijilf Sams. I know no spells, use no forbidden arts ; 

jli| My trust is in the living God, who gave me "/, 

;|f. At my nativity tnis strength, diffused <''}^if 

;l} No less through all my sinews, joints, and bones, 

I Than thine, while I preserved these locks unshorn, 

The pledge of my un%dolated vow. 
For proof hereof, if Dagon be thy god. 
Go to his temple, invocate his aid 
With solemnest devotion, spread before him 
How highly it concerns his glory now 
To frustrate and dissolve these magic spells, 
Which I to be the power of Israel's God 
Avow, and challenge 1 )agon to the test. 
Off 'ring to combat thee his champion bold. 
With th' utmost of his godhead seconded : 
; Then thou shalt see, or rather to thy sorrow 

;* Soon feel, whose God is strongest, thine or mine. 

Har. Presume not on thy God, whate'er he be, 
Thee he regards not, owns not, hath cut off 
Quite from his people, and deliver'd up 
|,j/.; Into thy enemies' hand, permitted them 

iV To put out both thine eyes, and fetter' d send thee 

Into the common prison, there to grind 
Among the slaves and asses, thy comrades, 



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SAMSON A GONIS TES. 69 

As good for nothing else, no better service 

With those thy boist'rous locks, no worth)' match 

For valonr to assail, nor bj' the sword 

Of noble warrior, so to stain his hononr. 

But by the barber's razor best subdued. 

Sams. All these indignities, for such they are 
From thine, these evils I deserve and more, 
Acknowledge them from God inflicted on me 
Justly, yet despair not of His final pardon 
Whose ear is ever open, and His eye 
Gracious to readmit the suppliant ; 
In confidence whereof I once again 
Defy thee to the trial of mortal fight. 
By combat to decide whose God is God, 
Thine, or Whom I with Israel's sous adore. 

Har. Fair honour that thou dost thy God, in trusting 
He will accept thee to defend his cause, 
A murderer, a revolter, and a robber. [these? 

Sams. Tongue-doiighty giant, how dost thou prove me 

Har. Is not thy nation subject to our lords? 
Their magistrates confess'd it, when they took thee 
As a league-breaker, and deliver'd bound 
Into our hands ; for hadst thou not committed 
Notorious murder on those thirty men 
At Ascalon, who never did thee harm, 
Then like a robber stripp'dst them of their robes? 
The Philistines, when thou hadst broke the league. 
Went up with armed powers thee only seeking, 
To others did no violence nor spoil. 

Sams. Among the daughters of the Philistines 
I chose a wife, which argued me no foe ; 
And in your city held my nuptial feast : 
But your ill meaning politician lords. 
Under pretence of bridal friends and guests, 
Appointed to await me thirty spies, 
Who threat'ning cruel death constrain'd the bride 
To wring from me and tell to them my secret, - V^v' 

That solved the riddle which I had proposed. 
When I perceived all set on enmit}', 
As on my enemies, wherever chanced, 
I used hostility, and took their spoil 
To pay my underminers in their coin. 
My nation was subjected to 3-our lords. 
It was the force of conquest ; force with force 
Is well ejected when the conquer'd can. 
But I a private person, whom my country 
As a league-breaker gave up bound, presumed 
Single rebellion, and did hostile acts. 
I was no private, but a person raised 
With strength sufficient and command from heav'n 



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SAMSON A cyON/STES. 




h 





To free my country ; if their servile minds 

Me their deliverer sent would not receive, 

But to their masters gave me up for nought, 

Th' unworthier they ; whence to this day they serve. 

I was to do my part from heav'n assign 'd, 

And had perform'd it, if my known offence 

Had not disabled me, not all your force : 

These shifts refuted, answer thy appellant, 

Though by his blindness maini'd for high attempts. 

Who now defies thee thrice to single fight. 

As a petty enterprise of small enforce. 

Har. With thee a man condemn'd, a slave enroU'd, 
Due by the law to capital punishment ? 
To fight with thee no man of arms will deign. 

Sams. Cam'st thou for this, vain boaster, to surv^ey me, 
To descant on my strength, and give the verdict ? 
Come nearer, part not hence so slight inform'd ; 
But take good heed my hand surv'C}' not thee. 

Har. O Baal-zebub ! can my ears unused 
Hear these dishonours, and not render death ? 

Sams. No man withholds thee, nothing from thy hand 
Fear I incurable ; bring up thy van, 
My heels are fetter'd, but my fist is free. 

Har. This insolence other kind of answer fits. 

vSams. Go, bafiled coward, lest I run upon thee, 
Though in these chains, bulk without spirit vast. 
And with one buffet lay thy structure low, 
Or swing thee in the air, then dash thee down 
To the hazard of thy brains and shatter'd sides. 

Har. By Astaroth ere long thou shalt lament 
These braveries in irons loaden on thee. 

Chor. His giantship is gone somewhat crestfall'n, 
Stalking with less unconscionable strides. 
And lower looks, but in a sultry chafe. 

Sams. I dread him not, nor all his giant I;rood, 
Though fame divulge him father of five sons, 
All of gigantic size, Goliah chief 

Chor. He will directly to the lords, I fear, 
And -with malicious counsel stir them up 
Some way or other yet further to afiiict thee. 

Sams. He must allege some cause, and offer'd fight 
Will not dare mention, lest a question rise 
Whether he durst accept the offer or not. 
And that he durst not plain enough appear' d. 
Much more affliction tlian already felt 
They cannot well impose, nor I sustain ; 
If they intend advantage of ni}^ labours, 
The work of many hands, which earns my keeping 
With no small profit daily to my owners. 
But come what will, my deadliest foe will prove 



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SAMSON AGONISTES. n 

My speediest friend, by death to rid me hence, 
The worst that he can give, to me the best. 
Yet so it may fall out, because their end 
Is hate, not help to me, it may with mine 
Draw their own ruin who attempt the deed. 

Chor. Oh, how comely it is, and how reviving 
To the spirits of just men long oppress' d ! 
When God into the hands of their deliverer, 
''. ^'"'^ .1 Puts invincible might 

To quell the mighty of the earth, th' oppressor. 
The brute and boist'rous force of violent men 
Hardy and industrious to support 
Tvranuic power, but raging to pursue 
The righteous, and all such as honour truth ; 
He all their ammunition 
And feats of war defeats, 
With plain heroic magnitude of mind 
And celestial vigour arm'd, 
Their armories aud magazines contemns, 
,'|ul Renders them useless, while 

''^'' With wingid expedition. 

Swift as the light' ning glance, he executes 
His errand on the wicked, who surprised 
; Ivose their defence distracted and arnazed. 

i But patience is more oft the exercise 

^ Of saints, the trial of their fortitude. 

Making them each his own deliverer. 
And victor over all 
That tyranny of fortune can inflict : 
"li||. Either of these is in thy lot, 

liiiL ■"" I Samson, with might endued 

W>4:-s- ^ " Above the sons of men ; but sight bereaved 

'**^ ~ May chance to number thee with those 

^ " Whom patience finally must crown. 

'■ = This idol's day hath been to thee no day ot rest 

Labouring thy mind 
More than the working day thv hands. 
> •:., And yet perhaps more trouble is behind. 

For I descry this way 
Some other tending, in his hand 
A sceptre or quaint staff he bears. 
Comes on amain, speed in his look. 
,7 By his habit I discern him now 

A public officer, and now at hand. 
His message will be short and voluble. 

Off. Hebrews, the pris'ner Samson here I seek. 
i Chor. His manacles remark him, there he sits. 

* i Off. Samson, to thee our lords thus bid me say ; 

This day to Dagon is a solemn feast. 
With sacrifices, triumph, pomp, and games ; 




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Thy strength they know surpassing human rate 
> And now some public proof thereof require 

\/^ I ,' To honour this great feast and great assembly ; 
}, Rise therefore with all speed and come along, 
Where I will see thee hearten' d and fresh clad 
T' appear as fits before th' illustrious lords. 

Sams. Thou know'st I am an Hebrew, therefore tell them 
Our law forbids at their religious rites 
My presence ; for that cause I cannot come. 

Off. This answer, be assured, will not content them. 

Sams. Have they not sword-players, and ev'ry sort 
Of gymnic artists, wrestlers, riders, runners. 
Jugglers, and dancers, antics, mummers, mimics, 
But they must pick me out, with shackles tired. 
And over-labour' d at their public mill. 
To make them sport with blind activity ? 
Do they not seek occasion of new quarrels 
On my refusal to distress me more. 
Or make a game of my calamities ? 
Return the way thou cam'st, I will not come. 

Off. Regard thyself, this will offend them highly. 

Sams. Myself? my conscience and internal peace. 
Can they think me so broken, so debased 
With corporal servitude, that my mind ever 
! Will condescend to such absurd commands? 
Although their drudge, to be their fool or jester, 
And in my midst of sorrow and heart-grief 
To show them feats, and play before their god, 
The worst of all indignities, yet on me 
Join'd with extreme contempt? I will not come. 

Off. My message was imposed on me with speed, 
Brooks no delay. Is this thy resolution ? 

Sams So take it with what speed thy message needs. 

Off. I am sorry what this stoutness will produce. 

S.\MS. Perhaps thou shalt have cause to sorrow indeed. 

Chor. Consider, Samson, matters now are strain'd 
ITp to the highth, whether to hold or break. 
He's gone, and who knows how he may report 
Thy words by adding fuel to the flame ? 
Expect another message more imperious. 
More lordly thund'ring than thou well wilt bear. 

S.\MS. Shall I abuse this consecrated gift 
Of strength, again returning with my hair 
After my great transgression, so requite 
Favour renew' d, and add a greater sin 
By prostituting holy things to idols ; 
A Nazarite in place abominable 
Vaunting ni}' strength in honour to their Dagou ? 
Besides, how vile, contemptible, ridiculous. 
What act more execrably unclean, profane ? 




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Chor. Yet with this strength thou serv'st the Philistines 
Idolatrous, uncircumcised, unclean. 

Sams. Not in their idol-worship, but by labour 
Honest and lawful to deserve my food 
Of those who have me in their civil power. 
; \ \ J Chor. Where the heart joins not, outward acts defile not. 

■'\,''\ \., Sams. Whereoutwardforceconstrains,thesentenceholds. 

' But who constrains me to the temple of Dagon, 

Not dragging ? the Philistian lords command. 
Commands are no constraints. If I obey them, 
I do it freely, vent ring to displease 
God for the fear of man, and man prefer, 
Set God behind : which in His jealousy 
Shall never, unrepented, find forgiveness. 
Yet that He may dispense with me or thee 
Present in temples at idolatrous rites 
For some important caiise, thou need'st not doubt. 

Chor. Howthou wilt here come off surmounts my reach. 

Sams. Be of good courage, I begin to feel 
Some rousing motions in me, which dispose 
, , To something extraordinary my thoughts. 

ji'i I •': I I with this messenger will go along, 
ik ' Nothing to do, be sure, that may dishonour 

Our law, or stain my vow of Nazarite. 
If there be aught of presage in the mind, 
This day will be remarkable in my life 
i;'i By some great act, or of my days the last. 

'Chor. In time thou hast resolved, the man returns. 

Off. vSamson, this second message from our lords 
To thee I am bid say. Art thou our slave. 
Our captive, at the public mill our drudge, 
And dar'st thou at our sending and command 
Dispute thy coming ? come without delay ; 
Or we shall find such engines to assail 
And hamper thee, us thou shalt come of force, 
Though thou wert firmlier fasten'd than a rock. 
Sams. I could be well content to try their art. 
Which to no few of them would prove pernicious 
Yet knowing their advantages too many. 
Because they shall not trail me through their streets 
Like a wild beast, I am content to go. 
Master's commands come with a power resistless 
To such as owe them absolute subjection ; 
And for a life who will not change his purpose? 
So mutable are all the ways of men ! 
Yet this be sure, in nothing to complj^ 
Scandalous or forbidden in our law. 

Off. I praise thy resolution : doff these links ; 
By this compliance thou wilt win the lords 
To favour, and, perhaps, to set thee free. 




%:- 



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SAMSON AGONISTES. 



^' 




Sams. Brethren, farewell ; your company along 
I will not wish, lest it perhaps offend them 
To see me girt with friends ; and how the sight 
Of me as of a common enemy, 
So dreaded once, may now exasparate them 
I know not. Lords are lordliest in their wine ; 
And the well feasted priest then soonest fired 
With zeal, if aught religion seem concem"d ; 
No less the people on their holy-days 
Impetuous, insolent, unquenchable : 
Happen what may, of me expect to hear 
Nothing dishonourable, impure, unworthy 
Our God, our law, my nation, or myself. 
The last of me or no I cannot warrant. 

Chor. Go, and the Holy One 
Of Israel be thj^ guide 

To what may serve His glorj' best, and spread His name 
Great among the heathen round ; 
Send thee the angel of thy birth, to stand 
Fast by thy side, who from thy father's field 
Rode up in flames after his message told 
Of thy conception, and be now a shield 
Of fire ; that spirit that first rush'd on thee 
In the camp of Dan 
Be efficacious in thee now at need. 
For never was from heaven imparted 
Measure of strength so great to mortal seed, 
As in thy wondrous actions hath been seen. 
But wherefore comes old Manoali in such haste 
With j-outhful steps ? much livelier than ere while 
He seems ; supposing here to find his son, 
Or of him bringing to us some glad news ? 

Man. Peace with you, brethren ! my inducement hither 
Was not at present here to find my son, 
By order of the lords new parted hence, 
To come and play before them at their feast. 
I heard all as I came, the city rings, 
And numbers thither flock ; I had tio will, 
Lest I should see him forced to things unseemly. 
But that which moved my coming now was chiefl}- 
To give ye part with me what hope I have 
With good success to work his liberty. 

Chor. That hope would much rejoice us to partake 
With thee ; say, reverend Sire, we thirst to hear. 

Man. I have attempted one by one the lords 
Either at home or through the high street passing, 
With supplication prone and father's tears, 
To accept of ransom for my son their pris'ner. 
Somie much averse I found and wondrous harsh. 
Contemptuous, proud, set on revenge and spite ; 




■... ■'^^-^^^'^SS 



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75 



t / 



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That part most reverenced Dagon aad his priests : 
Others more moderate seeming, but their aim 
Private reward, for which both God and State 
They easily would set to sale : a third 
More generous far and civil, who confess' d 
They had enough revenged, ha\ang reduced 
Their foe to misery beneath their fears, 
The rest was magnanimity to remit, 
If some convenient ransom were proposed. 
What noise or shout was that? it tore the sky. 

Chor. Doubtless the people shouting to behold 
Their once great dread, captive and blind before them, 
Or at some proof of strength before them shown. 

Man. His ransom, if my whole inheritance 
May compass it, shall willingly be paid 
And number'd down : much rather I shall choose 
To live the poorest in my tribe, than richest. 
And he in that calamitous prison left. 
No, I am fix'd not to part hence without him. 
For his redemption all my patrimony, 
If need be, I am ready to forego 
And quit : not wanting him, I shall want nothing. 

Chor. Fathers are wont to lay up for their sons, 
Thou for thy son art bent to lay out all : 
Sons wont to nurse their parents in old age. 
Thou in old age carest how to nurse thy son, 
Made older than thy age through eyesight lost. 

Man. It shall be my delight to tend his eyes. 
And view him sitting in the house, ennobled. 
With all those high exploits by him achieved, 
And on his shoulders waving down those locks. 
That of a nation arm'd the strength contain' d : 
And I persuade me God hath not permitted 
His strength again to grow up with his hair, 
Garrison'd round about him like a camp 
Of faithful soldiery, were not his purpose 
To use him further yet in some great service. 
Not to sit idle with so great a gift 
Useless, and thence ridiculous, about him. 
And since his strength with eyesight was not lost, 
God will restore him eyesight to his strength. 

Chor. Thy hopes are not ill founded nor seem vain 
Of his delivery, and thy joy thereon 
Conceived, agreeable to a father's love, 
In both which we, as next, participate. 

M.\N. I know your friendly minds, and — O what noise ? 
Mercy of heav'n, what hideous noise was that? 
Horribly loud, unlike the former shout. 

Chor. Noise call you it or universal groan. 
As if the whole inhabitation perish'd ! 




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W III 



V,«i 



Blood, death, and deathful deeds are in that noise, 
Ruin, destruction at the utmost point. 

Man. Of ruin indeed niethought I heard the noise ; 
Oh, it continues, they have slain my son. 

Chor. Thy son is rather slaying them, that outcry 
From slaughter of one foe could not ascend. 

M.\N. Some dismal accident it needs must be ; 
What shall we do, stay here, or run and see ? 

Chor. Best keep together here, lest running thither 
We unawares run into danger's mouth. 
This evil on the Philistines is fall'n ; 
From whom could else a general cry be heard? 
The sufferers then will scarce molest us here. 
From other hands we need not much to fear. 
What if his eyesight, for to Israel's God 
Nothing is hard, by miracle restored. 
He now be dealing dole among his foes, 
And over heaps of slaughter'd walk his way? 

Man. That were a joy presumptuous to be thought. 

Chor. Yet God hath wrought things as incredible 
For his people of old ; what hinders now ? 

Man. He can, I know, but doubt to think He will ; 
Yet hope would fain subscribe, and tempts belief 
A little stay will bring some notice hither. 

Chor. Of good or bad so great, of bad the sooner, 
For evil news rides post, while good news baits. 
And to our wish I see one hither speeding. 
An Hebrew, as I guess, and of our tribe. 

Mess. O whither shall I run, or which wa}- fly 
The sight of this so horrid spectacle, 
Which erst my eyes beheld, and yet behold ? 
For dire imagination still pursues me. 
But providence or instinct of nature seems, 
Or reason though disturb' d, and scarce consulted, 
To have guided me aright, I know not how. 
To thee first, reverend Manoah, and to these 
My countrymen, whom here I knew remaining, 
As at some distance from the place of horror, 
So in the sad event too much concern'd. 

Man. The accident was loud, and here before thee 
With rueful cr}', yet what it was we hear not ; 
No preface needs, thou seest we long to know. 

Mess. It would burst forth, but I recover breath 
And sense distract, to know well what I utter. 

Man. Tell us the sum, the circumstance defer. 

Mess. Gaza yet stands, but all her sons are fall'n. 
All in a moment overwhelm'd and fall'n, 

M.\n. Sad ; but thou know'st to Israelites not saddest 
The desolation of a hostile city. 

Mkss. Feed on that first, there mav in grief be surfeit. 



ill -'iji-'' 








SAMSOiY AGONISTES. 



77 




Man. Relate by whom. 

Mess. By Samson. 

Man. That still lessens 
The sorrow, and converts it nigh to joy. 

Mess. Ah ! Manoah, I refrain too suddenly 
To utter what will come at last too soon ; 
Lest evil tidings with too rude irruption 
Hitting thy aged ear should pierce too deep. 

Man. Suspense in news is torture, speak them out. 

Mess. Take then the worst in brief, Samson is dead, 

Man. The worst indeed. O ! all my hopes defeated 
To free him hence ! but death, who sets all free, 
Hath paid his ransom now and full discharge. 
What windy joy this day had I conceived 
Hopeful of his delivery, which now proves 
Abortive as the first-born bloom of spring 
Nipt with the lagging rear of winter's frost ! 
Yet ere I give the reins to grief, say first. 
How died he ; death to life is crown or shame. 
All by him fell thou say'st, by whom fell lie ? 
What glorious hand gave Samson his death's wound? 

Mess. Unwounded of his enemies he fell. 

Man. Wearied with slaughter then, or how? explain. 

Mess. By his own hands. 

Man. Self-Anolence? what cause 
Brought him so soon at variance with himself 
Among his foes ? 

Mess, inevitable cause 
At once both to destroj^ and be destroy'd; 
The edifice, where all were met to see him. 
Upon their heads and on his own he pull'd. 

Man. O lastly over-strong against thyself! 
A dreadful way thou took'st to thy revenge. 
More than enough we know ; but, while things yet 
Are in confusion, give us, if thou canst, 
Eye-witness of what first or last was done. 
Relation more particular and distinct. 

Mess. Occasions drew me early to this city. 
And as the gates I enter'd with sun-rise, 
The morning trumpets festival proclaim'd 
Through each high-street Little I had dispatch'd 
When all abroad was rumour'd, that this day 
Samson should be brought forth to show the people 
Proof of his mighty strength in feats and games ; 
I sorrow' d at his captive state, but minded 
Not to be absent at that spectacle. 
The building was a spacious theatre, 
Half-round, on two main pillars vaulted high, 
With seats, where all the lords and each degree 
Of sort might sit iu order to behold ; 



K^ 





78 



SAMSON AGONISTES. 




The other side was open, where the throng 

On banks and scaffolds under sky might stand ; 

I among these aloof obscurely stood. 

The feast and noon grew high, and sacrifice 

Had fill'd their hearts with mirth, high cheer, and wine, 

When to their sports they tvirn'd. Immediately 

Was Samson as a public servant brought. 

In their state livery clad ; before him pipes 

And timbrels, on each side went armed guards, 

Both horse and foot, before him and behind 

Archers, and slingers, cataphracts, and spears. 

At sight of him the people with a shout 

Rifted the air, clamouring their God with praise, 

Who had made their dreadful enemy their thrall. 

He patient, but undaunted, where they led him. 

Came to the place, and what was set before him. 

Which without help of eye might be assayed, 

To heave, pull, draw, or break, he still perform'd 

All with incredible stupendous force. 

None daring to appear antagonist. 

At length for intermission' sake they led him 

Between the pillars ; he his guide requested, 

For so from such as nearer stood we heard. 

As over-tired to let him lean awhile 

With both his arms on those two massy pillars, 

That to the arched roof gave main support. 

He unsuspicious led him ; which when Samson 

Felt in his arms, with head awhile inclined, 

And eyes fast fixt he stood, as one who pray'd, 

Or some great matter in his mind revolved : 

At last with head erect thus cried aloud, 

Hitherto, lords, what your commands imposed 

I have perform'd, as reason was. obeying, 

Not without wonder or delight beheld : 

Now of my own accord such other trial 

I mean to show you of my strength, yet greater ; 

As with amaze shall strike all who behold. 

This utter'd, straining all his nerves he bow'd. 

As with the force of winds and waters pent 

When mountains tremble, those two massy pillars 

With horrible convulsion to and fro 

He tugg'd, he shook, till down they came and drew 

The whole roof after them, with burst of thunder 

Upon the heads of all who sat beneath. 

Lords, ladies, captains, counsellors, or priests, 

Their choice nobility and flower, not only 

Of this, but each Philistian city round. 

Met from all parts to solemnize this feast. 

Samson, with these immixt, inevitably 

Pull'd down the same destruction on himself; 




II 





" Those l7co massy pillars 
With horrible convulsion to and fro." — Page 78. 





SAMSON AGONISTES. 



79 



^ 



The vulgar only scaped who stood without. 

Chor. O dearly-bought revenge, yet glorious ! 
Living or dying thou hast fulfill' d 
The work for which thou wast foretold 
To Israel, and now liest victorious 
Among thy slain, self-kill'd 
Not willingly, but tangled in the fold 
Of dire necessity, whose law in death conjoin'd 
Thee with thy slaughter'd foes in number more 
Than all thv life had slain before. [lime, 

1. Semichor. While their hearts were jocund and sub- 
Drunk with idolatry, drunk with wine. 

And fat regorged of bulls and goats, 

Chanting their idol, and preferring 

Before our living Dread who dwells 

In Silo His bright sanctuary : 

Among them He a spirit of frenzy sent, 

Who hurt their minds. 

And urged them on with mad desire 

To call in haste for their destroyer ; 

They, only set on sport and play, 

Unweetingly importuned 

Their own destruction to come speed}- upon them. 

So fond are mortal men 

Fall'n into wrath divine. 

As their own ruin on themselves to invite, 

Insensate left, or to sense reprobate, 

And with blindness internal struck. 

2. Semichor. But he, though blind of sight, 
Despised and thought extingiiish'd quite, 
With inward eyes illuminated, 

His fiery virtue roused 

From under ashes into sudden flame, 

And as an ev'ning dragon came, 

Assailant on the perched roosts 

And nests in order ranged 

Of tame villatic fowl ; but as an eagle 

His cloudless thunder bolted on their heads. 

So virtue given for lost, 

Depress'd, and overthrown, as seem'd. 

Like that self-begotten bird 

In the Arabian woods imbost, 

That no second knows nor third. 

And lay ere while a holocaust. 

From out her ashy womb now teem'd. 

Revives, reflourishes, then vigorous most 

When most unactive deeni'd, 

And though her body die, her fame siu-vives 

A secular bird ages of lives. 

Man. Come, come, no time for lamentation now, 



M. 





•7^ 



8o 



SAMSON AGONISTES. 



f- 



Nor much more cause : Sauisou hath quit himself 

Like Samson, and heroically hath finished 

A life heroic, on his enemies 

Fully revenged, hath left them years of mourning, 

And lamentation to the sons of Caphtor 

Through a.l Philistian bounds. To Israel 

Honour hath left and freedom, let but them 

Find courage to lay hold on this occasion ; 

To himself and father's house eternal fame ; 

And, which is best and happiest yet, all this 

With God not parted from him, as was fear'd, 

But favouring and assisting to the end. 

Nothing is here for tears, nothing to wail 

Or knock the breast, no weakness, no contempt, 

Dispraise, or blame, nothing but well and fair. 

And what may quiet us in a death so noble. 

Let us go find the body where it lies 

Soak'd in his enemies' blood, and from the stream 

With lavers pure and cleansing herbs wash off 

The clotted gore. I, with what speed the while, 

Gaza is not in plight to say us nay. 

Will send for all my kindi-ed, all my friends, 

To fetch him hence, and solemnly attend 

With silent obsequy and funeral train 

Home to his father's house : there will I build him 

A monument, and plant it round with shade 

Of laurel ever green, and branching palm. 

With all his trophies hung, and acts inroll'd 

In copious legend, or sweet hric song. 

Thither shall all the valiant youth resort, 

And from his memory inflame their breasts 

To matchless valour and adventures high : 

The virgins also shall on feastful days 

Visit his tomb with flowers, only bewailing 

His lot unfortunate iu nuptial choice. 

From whence captivity and loss of eyes. 

Chor. All is best, though we oft doubt 
What th' unsearchable dispose 
Of Highest Wisdom brings about, 
And ever best found in the close. 
Oft He seems to hide His face. 
But unexpectedly returns, 
And to His faithful champion hath in place 
Bore witness gloriously ; whence Gaza mourns 
And all that band them to resist 
His uncontrollable intent : 
His servants He, with new acquist 
Of true experience from this great event. 
With peace and consolation hath dismiss'd. 
And calm of mind, all passion spent. 




k;:; 



^^ 



> • I \ ! 



V i 




Sonnets anb Cansonc* 




:?) 



KU^"^ 



TO THE NIGHTINGAI.E. 

O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy spray 
Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still, 
Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill. 
While the jolly hours lead on propitious May. 

Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day, 
First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill, 
Portend success in love ; O if Jove's will 
Have link'd that amorous power to thy soft lay, 

Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate 

Foretell my hopeless doom in some grove nigh ; 
As thou from year to year hast sung too late 

For my relief, yet hadst no reason why : 

Whether the Muse, or Love call thee his mate, 
Both them I serve, and of their train am I. 



Donna leggiadra il cui bel nome honora 
L'herbosa val di Rheno, e il nobil varco, 
Bene e colui d'ogni valore scarco 
Qual tuo spirto gentil non innamora ; 

Che dolcemente mostra si di fuora 
De sui atti soavi giamai parco, 
E i don', che son d'amor saette ed arco. 
La onde 1' alta tua virtu s'infiora. 

Quando tu vaga parli, o lieta canti 
Che mover possa duro alpestre legno 
Guardi ciascun agli occhi, ed agli orecchi 

L'entrata, chi di te si truova indegno ; 
Grazia sola di su gli vaglia, inanti 
Che'l disio amoroso al cuor s'invecchi. 

(Si) 




'~"^!=^ 



'^^ 





82 



SONNETS. 



m^ \ 



QUAI< in colle aspro, al imbrunir di sera 
L'avezza giovinetta pastorella 
Va bagnando I'herbetta strana e bella 
Che mal si spande a disusata spera 

Fuor di sua natia alma priniavera, 
Cosi Amor meco insu la lingua snella 
Desta il fior novo di strania favella, 
Mentre io di te, vezzosamente altera, 

Canto, dal mio buon popol non inteso 
B'l bel Tamigi cangio col bel Arno. 
Amor lo volse, ed io a I'altrui peso 

Seppi ch' Amor cosa mai volse indarno. 
Deh ! foss' il mio cuor lento e'l duro seno 
A chi pianta dal ciel si buon terreno. 



■■:fe> 



M 



\i^ 



CANZONE. 

RiDONSi donne e giovani amorosi 
M' accostandosi attorno, e perche scrivi, 
Perche tu scrivi in lingua ignota e strana 
Verseggiando d' amor, e come t'osi ? 
Dinne, se la tua speme sia mai vana, 
E de pensieri lo miglior t'arrivi ; 
Cosi mi van burlando, altri rivi, 
Altri lidi t'aspettan, ed altre onde 
Nelle cui verdi sponde 
Spuntati ad hor, ad hor a la tua chioma 
L'immortal guiderdon d' eterne frondi 
Perche alle spalle tue soverchia soma ? 
Canzon dirotti, e tu per me rispondi 
Dice mia Donna, e'l suo dir e il mio cuore 
Questa e lingua di cui si vanta Amore. 



DiODATi, e te'l diro con maraviglia, 
Quel ritroso io ch'amor spreggiar solea 
E de suoi lacci spesso mi ridea 
Gia caddi, ov'huom dabben talhor s'impiglia. 

Ne treccie d'oro, ne guancia vermiglia 
M'abbaglian si, ma sotto nova idea 
Pellegrina bellezza che'l cuor bea, 
Portamenti alti honesti, e nelle ciglia 

Quel sereno fulgor d'amabil nero, 
Parole adome di lingua piu d'una, 
E'l cantar die di nicz/o I'hemispero 




'^ .,.'':x^^^ t^ 






SONNETS. 

Traviar ben puo la faticosa luna, 

E degli occhi suoi awenta si gran fuoco 
Che I'incerar gli orecchi mi fia poco. 



Per certo i bei vostr' occhi, Donna mia 
Esser non puo che non sian lo mio sole 
Si mi percuoton forte, come ei suole 
Per I'arene di Libia chi s'invia, 

Mentre un caldo vapor (ne senti pria) 
Da quel lato si spinge ove mi duole, 
Che forse amanti nelle lor parole 
Chiaman sospir ; io non so che si sia : 

Parte rinchiusa, e turbida si cela 



83 



Scosso mi il petto, e poi n'uscendo poco 
Quivi d' attorno o s'agghiaccia, o s'ingit 



igiela 



Ma quanto agli occhi giunge a trovar loco 
Tutte le notti a me suol far pioyose 
Finche mia alba rivien colma di rose. 



GioVANE piano, e semplicetto amante 
Poi che fuggir me stesso in dubbio sono, 
Madonna a voi del niio cuor I'humil dono 
Faro divoto ; io certo a prove tante 

L'hebbi fedele, intrepio, costante, 

De pensieri leggiadro, accorto, e buono ; 
Quandro rugge il gran mondo, e scocca il tuono, 
S'arma di se, e d' intero diamante ; 

Tanto del forse, e d' invidia sicuro, 
Di timori, e speranze al popol use 
Quanto d'ingegno, e d'alto valor vago, 

E di cetra sonora, e delle muse : 

Sol troverete in tal parte men duro 

Ove Amor mise I'insanabil ago. 



>ilk 



ON HIS BEING ARRIVED TO THE AGE OF 

TWENTY -THREE. 

1631. 

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, 
Stol'n on his wing my three and twentieth year ! 
My hasting days fly on with full career, 
But my late spring no bud or blossom show'th. 




■i'^^^^i^i : 




SONNETS. 




^ 



Perhaps mj' semblance might deceive the truth, 
That I to manhood am arrived so near, 
And inward ripeness doth much less appear, 
That some more timely-happy spirits indu th. 

Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow. 
It shall be still in strictest measure even 
To that same lot, however mean or high, 

Towards which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven. 
All is, if I have grace to use it so, 
As ever in my great Task-master's eye. 



'/';- 




WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO 

THE CITY. 

1642. 

Captain or Colonel, or Knight in arms. 
Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize, 
If deed of honour did thee ever please, 
Guard them, and him within protect from harms. 

He can requite thee, for he knows the charms 
That call fame on such gentle acts as these 
And he can spread thy name o'er lands and seas, 
Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms. 

I/ift not thy spear against the Muses' bow'r : 
The great Emathian conqueror bid spare 
The house of Pindarus, when temple and tow'r 

Went to the ground : and the repeated air 
Of sad Electra's poet had the pow'r 
To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare. 



m 




TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG I^ADY. 

lyADY, that in the prime of earliest youth 
Wisely hast shuun'd the broad way and the green. 
And with those few art eminently seen, 
That labour up the hill of heavenly truth, 

The better part with Mary and with Ruth 
Chosen thou hast ; and they that overween. 
And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen, 
No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth. 

Thy care is fix'd and zealously attends 




m 




SONNETS. 



85 



To fill thy odorous lamp witli deeds of light 
And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure 
Thou, when the bridegroom with his feastful friends 
Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night, 
Hast gain'd thy entrance, Virgin wise and pure. 




TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY. 

1643. 

Daughter to that good Earl, once President 
Of England's Council, and her Treasury, 
Who lived in both, unstain'd with gold or fee. 
And left them both, more in himself content. 

Till sad the breaking of that Parliament 
Broke him, as that dishonest victory 
At Chseronea, fatal to liberty, 
Kill'd with report that old man eloquent. 

Though later born than to have known the days 
Wherein your father flourish'd, yet by you, 
Madam, methinks I see him living yet ; 

So well your words his noble virtues praise. 
That all both judge you to relate them true, 
And to possess them, honour' d Margaret. 



■^ 



ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON 
MY WRITING CERTAIN TREATISES. 

1645- 

A BOOK was writ of late call'd Tetrachordon, 
And woven close, both matter, form, and style ; 
The subject new : it walk'd the town a while, 
Numb'ring good intellects ; now seldom pored on. 

Cries the stall-reader. Bless us ! what a word on 
A title-page is this ! and some in file 
vStand spelling false, while one might walk to Mile 
End Green. Why is it harder, Sirs, than Gordon, 

Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp ? 

Those rugged names to our like mouths grow sleek 
That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp. 

Thy age, like ours, O Soul of Sir John Cheke, 
Hated not learning worse than toad or asp. 
When thou taught'st Cambridge, and king Edward Greek. 





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SONNETS. 




J 




ON THB SAME. 

I DID but prompt the age to quit their clogs 
By the known rules of ancient liberty, 
When straight a barbarous noise environs me 
Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes, and dogs : 

As when those hinds that were transform'd to frogs 
Rail'd at Latona's twin-bom progeny, 
Which after held the sun and moon in fee. 
But this is got by casting pearl to hogs ; 

That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood. 
And still revolt when truth would set them free. 
I/icence they mean when they cry Liberty ; 

For who loves that, must first be wise and good ; 
But from that mark how far they rove we see 
For all this waste of wealth, and loss of blood. 



TO MR. H. LA WES ON THE PUBLISHING HIS AIRvS. 

Harry, whose tuneful and well measured song 
First taught our English music how to span 
Words with just note and accent, not to scan 
With Midas' ears, committing short and long ; 

Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng. 
With praise enough for envy to look wan ; 
To after age thou shalt be writ the man, 
That with smooth air couldst humour best our tongue. 

Thou honour'st verse, and verse must lend her wing 
To honour thee, the Priest of Phoebus' quire. 
That tun'st their happiest lines in hymn, or story 

Dante shall give fame leave to set thee higher 
Than his Casella, whom he woo'd to sing 
Met in the milder shades of Pxurgatory. 



ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS. 
CATHERINE THOMSON. 

MY CHRISTIAN FRIEND, DECEASED i6tII DECEMBER 1646. 

When faith and love, which parted from thee never, 
Had ripen'd thy just soul to dwell with God, 
Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load 
Of death, call'd life ; which us from life doth sever. 






SONNETS. 



87 





Thy works and alms, and all thy good endeavour, 
Stay'd not behind, nor in the grave were trod ; 
But, as Faith pointed with her golden rod, 
Follow'd thee up to joy and bliss for ever. 

Love led them on, and Faith, who knew them best 
Thy handmaids, clad them o'er with purple beams 
And azure wings, that up they flew so drest, 

And spake the truth of thee on glorious themes 
Before the Judge, who thenceforth bid thee rest 
And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams. 



TO THE LORD GENERAL FAIRFAX. 
1648. 

Fairfax, whose name in arms through Europe rings, 
Filling each mouth with envy or with praise. 
And all her jealous monarchs with amaze 
And rumotu-s loud, that daunt remotest kmgs. 

Thy firm unshaken virtue ever brings 

Victory home, though new rebellions raise 
Their Hydra heads, and the false North displays 
Her broken league to imp their serpent wings. 
O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand, 
(For what can war, but endless war still breed?) 
Till truth and right from violence be freed. 

And public faith clear' d from the shameful brand 
Of public fraud. In vain doth valour bleed, 
While avarice and rapine share the land. 



XVI. 



TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL. 
1652. 

Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud 
Not of war only, but detractions rude. 
Guided by faith and matchless fortitude. 
To peace and truth thy glorious way hast plough'd, 

And on the neck of crowned fortune proud 

Hast rear'd God's trophies, and his work pursued, 



^'^M 




^.L/f 




"■ ',!(\M''hi|| 




88 SOiViVETS. 

"While Darwen stream -with blood of Scots imbrued, 
And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud, 

And Worcester's laureat wreath. Yet much remains 
To conquer still ; peace hath her victories 
No less renown'd than war : new foes arise 

Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains : 
Help us to save free conscience from the paw 
Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw. 



^SS^I'-i" 



'Jjr -V^iF I, 



XVII. 

TO SIR HENRY VANE THE YOUNGER. 
1652. 

Vane, young in j-ears, but in sage counsel old, 
Than whom a better senator ne'er held 
The helm of Rome, when gowns not arms repell'd 
The fierce Epirot and the African bold, 

Whether to settle peace, or to unfold 

The drift of hollow states hard to be spell 'd, 
Then to advise how war may, best upheld, 
Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold 

In all her equipage : besides to know 

Both spiritual pow'r and civil, what each means, 

What severseach, thoixhastlearn'd, which few have done: 

The bounds of either sword to thee we owe : 
Therefore on th}' firm hand Religion leans 
In peace, and reckons thee her eldest son. 



XVIII. 

ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEDMONT. 

Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughter' d saints, whose bones 
Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold ; 
Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old, 
When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones. 

Forget not : in thy book record their groans 
Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold 
Slain by the bloody Piedmontese that roU'd 
Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans 



«!*^^:i- 






? A^^, 









SONNETS. 



The vales redoubled to the hills, and the)- 

To Heav'n. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow 
O'er all th' Italian fields, where still doth sway 

The triple tyrant ; that from these may grow 
A hundred fold, who having learn'd thy way 
Early may fly the Babylonian woe. 



89 



■ J-^ / ! If 

i '. : ' 1 ^ 



ON HIS BLINDNESS. 

When I consider how my light is spent 

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide. 
And that one talent which is death to hide, 
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent 

To serve therewith my Maker, and present 
My tn:e account, lest he returning chide ; 
' ' Doth God exact day-labour, light denied ? ' ' 
I fondly ask : But Patience, to prevent 

That murmur, soon replies, " God doth not need 
Either man's work, or his own gifts ; who best 
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best : his state 

Is kingl}^ ; thousands at his bidding speed, 
And post o'er land and ocean without rest ; 
They also serve who only stand and wait." 





TO MR. LAWRENCE. 

Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son. 

Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire, 
Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire 
Help waste a sullen da}-, what may be won 

From the hard season gaining? Time will run 
On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire 
The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire 
The lily and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun. 

What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice. 
Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise 
To hear the lute well touch'd, or artful voice 

Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air? 

He who of those delights can judge, and spare 
To interpose them oft, is not unwise. 



^'"ss^^i^-"': V 






^^ 




iiBg^^ai8^BB^ 



Hi ^ 




so.wy/i/s. 



TO CYRIAC SKINNER. 

Cyriac, whose grandsire on the royal bench 
Of British Themis, with no mean applause 
Pronounced and in his volumes taught our laws, 
Which others at their bar so often wrench ; 

To-day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench 
In mirth, that after no repenting draws; 
Let Euclid rest and Archimedes pause, 
And what the Swede intends, and what the French. 

To measure life learn thou betimes, and know 
Toward solid good what leads the nearest way ; 
For other things mild Heav'n a time ordains, 

And disapproves that care, though wise in show, 
That with superiiuous burden loads the day, 

And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains. 



// .1^. 



L:<0 



XXII. 



TO THE SAME. 

Cyriac, this three years day these eyes, though clear, 

To outward view, of blemish or of spot, 

Bereft of light their seeing have forgot, 

Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear 
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year, 

Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not 

Against Heav'n's hand or will, nor bate a jot 

Of heart or hope ; but still bear up and steer 
Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask? 

The conscience, Friend, t' have lost them overplied 

In liberty's defence, my noble task. 
Of which all Europe talks from side to side. 

This thought might lead me thro' the world's vain mask 

Content, though blind, had I no better guide. 




ON HIS DECEASED WIFE. 

METHOUGHT I saw my late espoused saint 
Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, 
Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave, 
Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint. 




4. 



V.-^.^ 








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SONNETS. 



91 



%i 



m 



Mine, as whom wash'd from spot of child-bed tamt 
Purification in the old law did save ; 
And such, as yet once more I trust to have 
Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, 

Came vested all in white, pure as her mind : 
Her face was veil'd, yet to my fancied sight 
Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shmed 

So clear, as in no face with more delight. 
But oh! asto embrace me she inclined, 

I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night. 




^^ 






ItUj 



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ANNO y^TATIS 1 7- 



ON THE DEATH OF A FAIR INFANT DYING 
OF A COUGH. 

1625. 



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O FAIREST flower, no sooner blown but blasted, 
Soft silken primrose fading timelessly, 
Summer's chief honour, if thou hadst out -lasted 
Bleak Winter's force that made thy blossom dry ; 
For he being amorous on that lovely dye 

That did thy cheek envermeil, thought to kiss, 
But kill'd, alas, and then bewail'd his fatal bliss. 



II. 

For since grim Aquilo his charioteer 
By boisterous rape th' Athenian damsel got, 
He thought it touch'd his deity full near, 
If likewise he some fair one wedded not. 
Thereby to wipe away the infamous blot 

Of long-uncoupled bed, and childless eld. 
Which 'mongst the wanton Gods a foul reproach was held. 



So mounting up in icy-pearled car, 
Through middle empire of the freezing air 
He wander'd long, till thee he spy'd from far ; 
There ended was his quest, there ceased his care. 
Down he descended from his snow-soft chair. 

But all unawares with his cold-kind embrace 
Unhoused thy virgin soul from her fair biding place. 

(92) 




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EARLY POEMS. 



93 



Yet art thou not ingloiious in thy fate ; 
For so Apollo, with unweeting hand, 
Whilome did slay his dearly-loved mate, 
Young Hyacinth, born on Eurotas' strand. 
Young Hyacinth, the pride of Spartan land ; 

But then transform' d him to a purple flower : 
Alack, that so to change thee Winter had no power ! 



Yet can I not persuade me thou art dead. 
Or that thy corse corrupts in earth's dark womb. 
Or that thy beauties lie in wormy bed. 
Hid from the world in a low delved tomb ; 
Could Heaven for pity thee so strictly doom ? 
Oh no ! for something in thy face did shine 
Above mortality, that show'd thou wast divine. 



Resolve me then, oh Soul most surely blest, 
(If so it be that thou these plaints dost hear,) 
Tell me, bright Spirit, where'er thou hoverest, 
Whether above that high first-moving sphere, 
Or in th' Elysian fields, (if such there were, ) 
Oh say me true, if thou wert mortal wight. 
And why from us so quickly thou didst take thy flight 



6*^^-* 



Wert thou some star which from the ruin'd roof 
Of shaked Olympus by mischance didst fall ; 
Which careful Jove in nature's true behoof 
Took up, and in fit place did reinstall ? 
Or did of late earth's sons besiege the wall 

Of sheeny Heaven, and thou some Goddess fled 
Amongst us here below to hide thy nectar'd head ? 





VIII. 

Or wert thou that just Maid, who once before 

Forsook the hated earth, O tell me sooth. 

And earnest again to \dsit us once more ? 

Or wert thou that sweet-smiling youth ? 

Or that crown'd matron sage white-robed Truth? 

Or any other of that heavenly brood 
Let down in cloudy throne to do the world some good ? 






94 



EARL Y POEMS. 



IX. 

* \ ^ Or wert thou of the golden-winged host, 

^ Who having clad thyself in human weed, 

To earth from thy prefixed seat didst post, 
And after short abode fly back with speed, 
As if to show what creatures heaven doth breed. 

Thereby to set the hearts of men on fire 
To scorn the sordid world and unto heav'n aspire ? 



But oh, why didst thou not stay here below 
To bless us with thy heav'n-loved innocence. 
To slake his wrath whom sin hath made our foe, 
To turn swift-rushing black Perdition hence, 
Or drive away the slaughtering Pestilence, 

To stand 'twixt us and our deserved smart ? 
But thou canst best perform that office where thou art. 

XI. 

Then thou, the Mother of so sweet a Child, 
Her false imagined loss cease to lament, 
And wisely learn to curb thy sorrows wild ; 
Think what a present thou to God hast sent, 
And render Him with patience what He lent ; 

This if thou do, He will an offspring give 
That till the world's last end shall make thy name to live. 



'=^ 



ANNO ^TATIS 1 9. 

AT A VACATION EXERCISE IN THE COLLEGE. 

PART LATIN, PART ENGLISH. 

The I,atin speeches ended, the English thus began : 

Hail, native Language, that by sinews weak 
Didst move my first endeavouring tongue to speak, 
And mad'st imperfect words with childish trips. 
Half unpronounced, slide through my infant lips. 
Driving dumb silence from the portal door. 
Where he had mutely sat two years before : 
Here I salute thee, and thy pardon ask, 
That now I use thee in my latter task : 
Small loss it is that thence can come unto thee, 
I know my tongue but little grace can do thee : 
Thou need'st not be ambitious to be first, 



V .:;iA\i 1 



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V- 




EARL Y POEMS. 



95 



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Believe nie I have thither pack'd the worst ; 

And, if it happen as I did forecast. 

The daintiest dishes shall be served up last. 

I pray thee then deny me not thy aid 

For this same small neglect that I have made : 

But haste thee straight to do me once a pleasure, 

And from thy wardrobe bring thy chiefest treasure, 

Not those new-fangled toys, and trimming slight 

Which takes our late fantastics with delight, 

But cull those richest robes, and gay'st attire 

Which deepest spirits, and choicest wits desire : 

I have some naked thoughts that rove about. 

And loudly knock to have their passage out ; 

And weary of their place do only stay 

Till thou hast deck'd them in thy best array ; 

That so they may without suspect or fears 

Fly swiftly to this fair assembly's ears. 

Yet I had rather, if I were to choose. 

Thy service in some graver subject use. 

Such as may make thee search thy coffers round, 

Before thou clothe my fancy in fit sound : 

Such where the deep transported mind may soar 

Above the wheeling poles, and at Heav'n's door 

Look in, and see each blissful Deity 

How he before the thunderous throne doth lie, 

List'ning to what unshorn Apollo sings 

To the touch of golden wires, while Hebe brings 

Immortal nectar to her kingly sire : 

Then passing through the spheres of watchful fire. 

And misty regions of wide air next under, 

And hills of snow, and lofts of piled thunder. 

May tell at length how green-eyed Neptune raves. 

In Heav'n's defiance mustering all his waves ; 

Then sing of secret things that came to pass 

When beldam Nature in her cradle was ; 

And last of kings and queens and heroes old. 

Such as the wise Demodocus once told. 

In solemn songs at king Alcinous' feast, 

While sad Ulysses' soul, and all the rest, 

Are held with his melodious harmony. 

In willing chains and sweet captivity. 

But fie, my wand' ring Muse, how thou dost stray ! 

Expectance calls thee now another way, 

Thou know'st it must be now thy only bent 

To keep in compass of thy predicament : 

Then quick about thy purposed business come. 

That to the next I may resign my room. 

Then Ens is represented as father of the Predicaments his ten sons, 

whereof the eldest stood for Substance with his canons, 

which Ens, thus speaking, explains. 



m 






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96 



EARL Y POEMS. 



Good luck befriend thee, Sou ; for at thy birth 

The fairy ladies danced upon the hearth ; 

Thy drowsy nurse hath sworn she did them spy 

Come tripping to the room where thou didst lie, 

And sweetly singing round about thy bed 

Strow all their blessings on thy sleeping head. 

She heard them give thee this, that thou shouldst still 

From eyes of mortals walk invisible : 

Yet there is something that doth force my fear, 

For once it was my dismal hap to hear 

A Sibyl old , bow-bent with crooked age. 

That far events full wisely could presage, 

And in time's long and dark prospective glass 

Foresaw what future days should bring to pass ; 

Your son, said she (nor can you it prevent), 

Shall subject be to many an Accident. 

O'er all his brethren he shall reign as king, 

Yet every one shall make him underling. 

And those that cannot live from him asunder 

Ungratefully shall strive to keep him under, 

In worth and excellence he shall out-go them. 

Yet being above them, he shall be below them ; 

From others he shall stand in need of nothing, 

Yet on his brothers shall depend for clothing. 

To find a foe it shall not be his hap, 

And peace shall lull him in her flow'ry lap ; 

Yet shall he live in strife, and at his door 

Devouring war shall never cease to roar ; 

Yea it shall be his natural property 

To harbour those that are at enmity. 

What pow'r, what force, what mighty spell, if not 

Your learned hands, can loose this Gordian knot ? 

The next Quantity and Quality spake in prose ; then Relation was 
called by his name. 

Rivers, arise ; whether thou be the son 

Of utmost Tweed, or Ouse, or gulphy Don, 

Or Trent, who like some earth-born giant spreads 

His thirty arms along the indented meads, 

Or sullen Mole that runneth underneath. 

Or Severn swift, guilty of maiden's death, 

Or rocky Avon, or of sedgy Lee, 

Or coaly Tine, or ancient hallow'd Dee, 

Or Humber loud that keeps the Scythian's name, 

Or Medway smooth, or royal tower'd Thame. 

The rest was prose. 



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ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY. 

I. 

This is the month, and this the happy morn, 
Wherein the Son of heaven's eternal king, 
Of wedded Maid, and Virgin Mother born. 
Our great redemption from above did bring ; 
For so the holy sages once did sing. 

That He our deadly forfeit should release. 
And with His Father work us a perpetual peace. 



That glorious form, that light unsufferable, 
And that far-beaming blaze of majesty, 
Wherewith He wont at heaven's high council-table 
To sit the midst of Trinal Unity, 
He laid aside ; and here with us to be, 

Forsook the courts of everlasting day. 
And chose with us a darksome house of mortal clay. 



Say, heav'nly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein 

Afford a present to the Infant God ? 

Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain, 

To welcome Him to this His new abode. 

Now while the heav'n by the sun's team untrod. 

Hath took no print of the approaching light, 
And all the spangled host keep watch in squadrons bright. 




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9S 



EA/?L V POE3rS. 



See how from far upon the eastern road 

The star-led wisards haste with odours sweet : 

O run present them with thy humble ode, 

And lay it lowly at His blessed feet ; 

Have thou the honour first thy Lord to greet, 

And join thy voice unto the Angel quire, 
From out His secret altar touch'd with hallow'd fire. 



THE HYMN. 



It was the winter wild. 
While the heaven-born child 

All meanly wrapt in the rude manger lies. 
Nature in awe to Him 
Had dofft her gaudy trim, 

With her great Master so to sympathize : 
It was no season then for her 
To wanton with the sun, her lusty paramour. 



\ti^'- 



Only with speeches fair 
She woos the gentle air 

To hide her guilty front with innocent snow. 
And on her naked shame, 
Pollute with sinful blame. 

The saintly veil of maiden white to throw. 
Confounded that her Maker's eyes 
Should look so near upon her foul deformities. 



But He her fears to cease. 

Sent down the meek-eyed Peace ; 

She, crown'd with olives green, came softly sliding 
Down through the turning sphere 
His ready harbinger. 

With turtle wing the amorous clouds dividing ; 
And waving wide her myrtle wand, 
She strikes a universal peace through sea and land. 



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ODES. 



99 




No war, or battle's sound 
Was heard the world around : 

The idle spear and shield were high up hung 
The hooked chariot stood 
Unstained with hostile blood, 

The trumpet spake not to the armed throng. 
And kings sat still with awful eye, 
As if they surely knew their sov'reign Lord was by. 



But peaceful was the night, 
Wherein the Prince of light 

His reign of peace upon the earth began : 
The winds with wonder whist 
Smoothly the waters kist, 

Whispering new joys to the mild ocean. 
Who now hath quite forgot to rave. 
While birds of calm sit brooding on the charmed wave. 




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VI. 

The stars with deep amaze 
Stand fix'd in steadfast gaze. 

Bending one way their precious influence. 
And will not take their flight. 
For all the morning light, 

Or Lucifer that often wam'd them thence ; 
But in their glimmering orbs did glow. 
Until their Lord himself bespake, and bid them go. 

VII. 

And though the shady gloom 
Had given day her room. 

The sun himself withheld his wonted speed. 
And hid his head for shame, 
As his inferior flame 

The new enlighten'd world no more should need ; 
He saw a greater sun appear 
Than his bright throne, or burning axletree could bear. 



The shepherds on the lawn, 
Or e'er the point of dawn, 

Sat simply chatting in a rustic row : 
Full little thought they then 




U - 






EA/i'L V POEMS. 

That the might}' Pan 

Was kindly come to live with them below ; 
Perhaps their loves, or else their sheep, 
Was all that did their silly thovhghts so busj' keep. 



S: 



When such music sweet 
Their hearts and ears did greet. 

As never was by mortal finger strook, 
Divinely-warbled voice 
Answering the stringed noise. 

As all their souls in blissful rapture took : 
The air such pleasure loth to lose. 
With thousand echoes still prolongs each heavenly close. 





Nature that heard such sound, 
Beneath the hollow round 

Of Cynthia's seat, the airj^ region thrilling, 
Now was almost won 
To think her part was done, 

And that her reign had here its last fulfilling ; 
She knew such harmony alone 
Could hold all heaven and earth in happier union. 



At last surrounds their sight 
A globe of circular light, 

That with long beams the shamefaced night array'd , 
The helmed Cherubim, 
And sworded Seraphim, 

Are seen in glittering ranks with wings display'd, 
Harping in loud and solemn quire, 
With unexpressive notes to Heaven's new-bom Heir. 



Such music (as 'tis said) 
Before was never made. 

But when of old the sons of morning sung, 
While the Creator great 
His constellations set. 

And the well-balanced world on hinges hung. 
And cast the dark foundations deep. 
And bid the welt'ring waves their oozy channel keep. 









\ •. 



Ring out, ye crystal spheres, 
Once bless our human ears. 

If ye have power to touch our senses so ; 
And let your silver chime 
Move in melodious time. 

And let the base of heav'n's deep organ blow 
And with your ninefold harmony 
Make up full consort to the angelic symphony. 



XIV. 






For if such holy song 
I \ \ Inwrap our fancy long, ^ , -, 

I >i L I Time will run back, and fetch the age of gold, 

j ■ '' 1 And speckled Vanity 

Will sicken soon and die, 

And leprous Sin will melt from earthly mould ; 
iCl And Hell itself will pass away, 

And leave her dolorous mansions to the peering day. 



Yea Truth and Justice then 
Will down return to men, 

Orb'd in a rainbow ; and, like glories wearing, 
Mercy will sit between. 
Throned in celestial sheen. 

With radiant feet the tissued clouds down steering : 
And heav'n, as at some festival, 
Will open wide the gates of her high palace hall. 

XVI. 

But wisest Fate says No, 
This must not yet be so, 

The babe yet lies in smiling infancy, 
That on the'bitter cross 
Must redeem our loss ; 

So both Himself and us to glorify ; 
Yet first to those ychain'd in sleep, 
The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep ; 

XVII. 

With such a horrid clang 
As on mount Sinai rang, 

While the red fire, and smouldering clouds out brake : 
The aged earth aghast, 




^ 



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with terror of that blast, 

Shall from the surface to the centre shake ; 
When at the world's last session, 
The dreadful Judge in middle air shall spread His throne. 



And then at last our bliss 
Full and perfect is, 

But now begins ; for from this happy day 
The old Dragon under ground 
In straiter limits bound, 

Not half so far casts his \isurped sway. 
And wroth to see his kingdom fail, 
Swinges the scaly horror of his folded tail. 



XIX. 

The oracles are dumb. 
No voice or hideous hum 

Runs thro' the arched roof in words deceiving. 
Apollo from his shrine 
Can no more divine, 

With hollow shriek the steep of Delphos leaving. 
No nightly trance, or breathed spell 
Inspires the pale-eyed priest from the prophetic cell. 



The lonely mountain o'er, 
And the resounding shore, 

A voice of weeping heard and loud lament ; 
From haunted spring, and dale 
Edged with poplar pale, 

The parting genius is with sighing sent ; 
With flow'r-inwoven tresses torn 
The Nymphs in twilight shade of tangled thickets mourn 



In consecrated earth, 
And on the holy hearth. 

The Lars, and Lemures moan with midnight plaint ; 
In urns, and altars round, 
A drear and dying sound 

Affrights the Flamens at their service quaint ; 
And the chill marble seems to sweat. 
While each peculiar Pow'r foregoes his wonted seat. 



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Peor and Baalim 

Forsake their temples dim, 

With that twice-batter'd God of Palestine ; 
And mooned Ashtaroth, 
Heav'n's queen and mother both, 

Now sits not girt with tapers' holy shine; 
The Lybic Hammon shrinks his horn, 
In vain the Tyrian maids their wounded Thammuz mourn. 

XXIII. 

And sullen Moloch fled. 
Hath left in shadows dread 

His burning idol all of blackest hue ; 
In vain with cymbals ring 
They call the grisly king, 

In dismal dance about the furnace blue : 
The brutish Gods of Nile as fast, 
Isis and Orus, and the dog Anubis haste. 




XXIV. 

Nor is Osiris seen 

In Memphian grove or green, 

Trampling the unshower'd grass with lowings loud: 
Nor can he be at rest 
Within his sacred chest. 

Nought but profoundest hell can be his shroud ; 
In vain with timbrell'd anthems dark 
The sable-stoled sorcerers bear his worshipp'd ark. 



He feels from Juda's land 
The dreaded Infant's hand. 

The rays of Bethlehem blind his dusky eyn ; 
Nor all the Gods beside, 
Longer dare abide, 

Not Typhon huge ending in snaky twine : 
Our Babe, to show His Godhead tnie. 
Can in His swaddling bands control the damned crew. 




So when the sun m bed, 
Curtain'd with cloudy red, 

Pillftws his chin upon an orient wave, 
The flocking shadows pale 







I04 EARL Y POEMS. 

Troop to the infernal jail, 

Each fetter' d ghost slips to his several grave ; 
And the yellow-skirted Fayes 
Fly after the night-steeds, leaving their moon-loved maze. 



But see the Virgin blest 
Hath laid her Babe to rest, 

Time is our tedious song should here have ending ; 
Heaven's youngest teemed star 
Hath fix'd her polish'd car, 

Her sleeping Lord with handmaid lamp attending ; 
And all about the courtly stable 
Bright-harness' d Angels sit in order serviceable. 



UPON THE CIRCUMCISION. f I' M 

:;), '""' .;§, 

I Ye flaming Pow'rs, and winged Warriors bright, '^^ 

I That erst with music, and triumphant song, 

ilj First heard by happy watchful shepherds' ear, 

Gji So sweetly sung your joy the clouds along ,|, 

!){ Through the soft silence of the list'ning night ; M 

' Now mourn, and if sad share with us to bear " / 

:{ Your fiery essence can distil no tear, 

I Burn in your sighs, and borrow J 

;f Seas wept from our deep sorrow : A 

He who with all heaven's heraldry whilere f| 

Enter'd the world, now bleeds to give us ease; 
'' Alas, how soon our sin 

Sore doth begin 

His infancy to seize ! 
O more exceeding love, or law more just ? ^ 

Just law indeed, but more exceeding love ! 
For we by rightful doom remediless 
Were lost in death, till He that dwelt above 
High throned in secret bliss, for us frail dust 
^ Emptied His glory, ev'n to nakedness ; 

: * And that great covenant which we still transgress 

jj:' Entirely satisfied, 

i: And the full wrath beside 

Of vengeful justice bore for our excess, 
' \ And seals obedience first, with wounding smart, 

|V i!f|' This day, but O ere long, 

I Huge pangs and strong » 

I Will pierce more near his heart. : 




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ODES. 



105 



vimvvi ' ■•" ■■■• ^"v' 



THE PASSION. 

1629. 

ErE^^'HII.E of music, and ethereal mirth, 
Wherewith the stage of air and earth did ring, 
And joyous news of heav'nly Infant's birth, 
My Muse with Angels did divide to sing ; 
But headlong joy is ever on the wing. 

In wintry solstice like the shorten'd light 
Soon swallow' d up in dark and long out-li\ing night. 



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For now to sorrow must I tune my song. 
And set my harp to notes of saddest woe, 
Which on our dearest Lord did seize ere long. 
Dangers, and snares, and wrongs, and worse than so. 
Which he for us did freely undergo : 

Most perfect Hero, tried in heaviest plight 
Of labours huge and hard, too hard for hiiuian wight .' 



He Sov'reign Priest stooping his regal head, 
That dropp'd with odorous oil down his fair eyes, 
Poor fleshly tabernacle entered, 
His starry front low-roof 'd beneath the skies : 
O what a mask was there, what a disguise ! 

Yet more ; the stroke of death he must abide, 
Then lies him meeklv down fast bv his brethren's side. 



These latest scenes confine mj^ roving verse. 
To this horizon is my Phcebus bound ; 
His god-like acts, and his temptations fierce. 
And former sufferings other where are found ; 
Loud o'er the rest Cremona's trump doth sound ; 

Me softer airs befit, and softer strings 
Of lute, or viol still, more apt for mournful things. 



Befriend me. Night, best patroness of grief, 

Over the pole thy thickest mantle throw. 

And work my fiatter'd fancy to belief. 

That Heaven and Earth are colour'd with my woe ; 

My sorrows are too dark for dav to know : 

The lea\es should all be black whereon I write. 
And leticrb where nn tei"- 1 im. wash'd a wannish white. 



i 







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io6 



EARL Y POEMS. 



See, Sep the chariot, and those rushing wheels, 
That whirl'd the Prophet up at Chebar flood ; 
My spirit some transporting Cherub feels. 
To bear me where the tow'rs of Salem stood, 
Once glorious tow'rs, now sunk in guiltless blood : 

There doth my soul in holy vision sit 
In pensive trance, and anguish, and ecstatic fit. 



Mine eye hath found that sad sepulchral rock 
That was the casket of Heav'n's richest store. 
And here though grief my feeble hands up lock, 
Yet on the soften'd quarry would I score 
My plaining verse as lively as before ; 

For sure so well instructed are my tears. 
That they would fitly fall in order' d characters. 



Or should I thence hurried on viewless wing, 
Take up a weeping on the mountains wild, 
The gentle neighbourhood of grove and spring 
Would soon unbosom all their echoes mild. 
And I ( for grief is easily beguiled ) 

Might think th' infection of my sorrows loud 
Had hit a race of mourners on some pregnant cloud. 

This subject the Author finding to be above the years he had, when 

he wrote it, and nothing satisfied with what was begun, 

left it unfinished. 



*/^ 






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'.Jii 



ON TIME. 

F1.Y envious Time, till thou run out thy race, 
Call on the lazy leaden-stepping hours. 
Whose speed is but the heavy plummet's pace ; 
And glut thyself with what thy womb devours. 
Which is no more than what is false and vain. 
And merely mortal dross ; 
So little is our loss, 
So little is thy gain. 










ODES 



For when as each thing bad thou hast intomb'd, 
And last of all thy greedy self consumed, 
Then long Eternity shall greet our bliss 
With an individual kiss ; 
And Joy shall overtake us as a flood, 
When everything that is sincerely good 
And perfectly divine, 

With truth, and peace, and love, shall ever shme 
About the supreme throne 
Of Him, to whose happy-making sight alone 
When once our heav'nly-guided soul shall climb, 
Then all this earthly grossness quit. 
Attired with stars, we shall for ever sit, 
Triumphing over Death, and Chance, and thee, O Time. 



AT A SOLEMN MUSIC. 

Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of heav'n's joy, 

Sphere-born harmonious sisters, Voice and Verse, 

Wed your di\ane sounds, and mix'd pow'r employ 

Dead things with inbreath'd sense able to pierce ; 

And to our high-raised phantasy present 

That undisturbed song of pure concent, 

Aye sung before the sapphire-colour'd throne 

To Him that sits thereon. 

With saintly shout, and solemn jubilee. 

Where the bright Seraphim in burning row 

Their loud uplifted angel-trumpets blow. 

And the cherubic host in thousand quires 

Touch their immortal harps of golden wires, 

With those just Spirits that wear victorious palms, 

Hymns devout and holy psalms 

Singing everlastingly : 

That we on earth with undiscording voice 

Mav rightly answer that melodious noise ; 

As once we did, till disproportion 'd sin 

Jarr'd against nature's chime, and with harsh din 

Broke the fair music that all creatures made 

To their great Lord, whose love their motion sway'd 

In perfect diapason, whilst they stood 

In first obedience, and their state of good. 

O may we soon again renew that song, 

And keep in tune with Heav'n, till God ere long 





,^ 






EARL Y POEMS. 

To his celestial concert us unite, 

To live with Him, and sing in endless morn of light. 



i. 



f 



SONG. ON MAY MORNING. 

Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, 
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her 
The flow'ry May, who from her green lap throws 
The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. 
Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire 
Mirth, and youth, and warm desire ; 
Woods and groves are of thy dressing, 
Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. 
Thus we salute thee with our early song, 
And welcome thee, and wish thee long. 







Mi 






AN EPITAPH ON THE MARCHIONESS OF 
WINCHESTER. 

This rich marble doth inter 
The honour d wife of Winchester, 
A Viscount's daughter, an Earl's heir. 
Besides what her virtues fair 
Added to her noble birth, 
More than she could own from earth. 
Summers three times eight save one 
She had told ; alas ! too soon. 
After so short time of breath, 
To house with darkness, and with death. 
■ Yet had the number of her days 
Been as complete as was her praise. 
Nature and Fate had had no strife 
In giving limit to her life. 
Her high birth, and her graces sweet 
Quickly found a lover meet ; 
The virgin choir for her request 
The god that sits at marriage feast ; 
He at their invoking came. 
But with a scarce well-lighted flame ; 
And in his garland as he stood. 
Ye might discern a Cyprus bud. 
Once liad the early matrons run 
To greet her of a lT,\My sin, 










"^SSs^^5^>^:> 







EPITAPHS. 



109 



-^>1};V* 



And now with second hope she goes 
And calls Lucina to her tnroes ; 
But whether by mischance or blame 
Atropos for Lucina came ; 
And with remorseless cruelty 
Spoil'd at once both fruit and tree : 
The hapless babe before his birth 
Had burial, yet not laid in earth, 
And the languish'd mother's womb 
Was not long a living tomb. 
So have I seen some tender slip,_ 
Saved with care from winter's nip, 
The pride of her carnation train, 
Pluck d up by some unheedy swain, 
Who only thought to crop the fiow'r 
New shot up from vernal show'r; 
But the fair blossom hangs the head 
Side-wavs, as on a dying bed, 
And those pearls of dew she wears 
Prove to be presaging tears, 
Which the sad morn had let fall 

On her hastening funeral. 

Gentle Lady, may thy grave 

Peace and quiet ever have ; 

After this thy travail sore 

Sweet rest seize thee evermore. 

That to give the world increase, 

Shorten'd hast thy own life's lease. 

Here, besides the sorrowing 

That thy noble house doth bring, 

Here be tears of perfect moan 

Wept for thee in Helicon, 

And some flowers, and some bays, 

For thy hearse, to strew the ways. 

Sent thee from the banks of Came, 

Devoted to thy virtuous name ; 

Whilst thou, bright Saint, high sitfst m glory, 

Next her, much hke to thee m story 

That fair Syrian shepherdess. 

Who after years of barrenness, 

The highly favoured Joseph bore 

To him that served for her before. 

And at her next birth much like thee 

Through pangs fled to felicity. 

Far within the bosom bright 

Of blazing Majesty and Light : 

There with thee, new welcome Saint, 

Like fortunes may her soul acquaint. 

With thee there clad in radiant sheen, 

No Marchioness, but now a Queen. 




W 



Ht 



V 



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no EARLY POEMS. 

I AN EPITAPH ON THE ADMIRABLE DRAMATIC 

III! POET W. SHAKESPEARE. 

1630. 

What needs my Shakespeare for his honour'd bones, 

The labour of an age in piled stones? 

Or that his hallow'd reliques should be hid 

Under a star-y-pointing pyramid ? 

Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, 

What need'st thou such weak witness of th}' name? 

Thou in oiur wonder and astonishment 

Hast built thyself a live-long monument. 

For whilst to the shame of slow-endeavouring art 

Thy easy numbers flow, and that each heart 

Hath from the leaves of thy unvalued book 

Those Delphic lines with deep impression took, 

Then thou our fancy of itself bereaving. 

Dost make us marble with too much conceiving ; 

And so sepulchred in such pomp dost lie. 

That kings for such a tomb would wish to die. 




r^^-c, 



,-f 



ON THE UNIVERSITY CARRIER. 

Who sickened in the time of his vacancy, being- forbid to go to 
I<ondon, by reason of the Plague. 

Here lies old Hobson ; Death has broke his girt, 

And here, alas, hath laid him in the dirt ; 

Or else the ways being foul, twenty to one. 

He's here stuck in a slough, and overthrown, 

'Twas such a shifter, that if truth were known. 

Death was half glad when he had got him down ; 

For he had any time this ten years full. 

Dodged with him betwixt Cambridge and the Bull. 

And surely death could never have prevail'd. 

Had not his weekly course of carriage fail'd ; 

But lately finding him so long at home, 

And thinking now his journey's end was come, 

And that he had ta'en up his latest inn. 

In the kind office of a chamberlin 

Show'd him his room where he must lodge that night, 

Pull'd off" his boots, and took away the light : 

If any ask for him, it shall be said, 

Hobson has supp'd, and's newly gone to bed. 






''^ 



EPITAPHS. 



ANOTHER ON THE SAME. 

Here lieth one, who did most truly prove 

That he could never die while he could move ; 

So hung his destiny, never to rot 

While he might still jog on and keep his trot. 

Made of sphere-metal never to decay 

Until his revolution was at stay. 

Time numbers motion, yet (without a crime 

'Gainst old truth) motion number'd out his time : 

And like an engine moved with wheel and weight, 

His principles being ceased, he ended straight. 

Rest that gives all men life, gave him his death, 

And too much breathing put him out of breath ; 

Nor were it contradiction to affirm 

Too long vacation hasten 'd on his term. 

Merely to drive the time away he sicken'd, 

Fainted, and died, nor would with ale be quicken'd ; 

" Nay," quoth he, on his swooning bed out-stretch'd, 

"If I mayn't carry, sure I'll ne'er be fetch'd, 

But vow, though the cross doctors all stood hearers, 

For one carrier put down to make six bearers." 

Ease was his chief disease, and to judge right. 

He died for heaviness, that his cart went light : 

His leisure told him that his time was come, 

And lack of load made his life burdensome. 

That even to his last breath (there be that say't) 

As he were press'd to death, he cried "more weight ;" 

But had his doings lasted as they were, 

He had been an immortal carrier. 

Obedient to the moon he spent his date 

In course reciprocal, and had his fate 

Link'd to the mutual flowing of the seas. 

Yet (strange to think) his wain was his increase : 

His letters are deliver' d all and gone. 

Only remains this superscription. 



VALLEGRO. 

Hence, loathed Melancholy, 

Of Cerberus and blackest Midnight born, 

In Stygian cave forlorn, 

'Mongst horrid shapes, and shrieks, and sights unholy, 

Find out some uncouth cell, 

Where brooding Darkness spreads his jealous wings, 







n 



EARL Y POEMS. 

And the night raven sings ; 

There under ebon shades, and low-browed rocks, 
As ragged as thy locks, 

In dark Cimmerian desert ever dwell. 
But come thou Goddess fair and free, 
In heaven y-clep'd Euphrosyne, 
And by men, heart -easing Mirth, 
Whom lovely Venus at a birth 
With two sister Graces more, 
To ivy-crowned Bacchus bore ; 
Or whether (as some sager sing) 
The frolic wind that breathes the spring, 
Zephyr with Aurora playing. 
As he met her once a Maying ; 
There on beds of violets blue. 
And fresh-blown roses wash'd in dew, 
Fill'd her with thee a daughter fair, 
So buxom, blitne, and debonair. 

Haste thee, Nymph, and bring with thee 
Jest, and youthful Jollity, 
Quips, and Cranks, and wanton Wiles, 
Nods, and Becks, and wreathed Smiles, 
Such as hang on Hebe's cheek. 
And love to live in dimple sleek ; 
Sport that wrinkled Care derides. 
And Laughter holding both his sides. 
Come, and trip it as you go, 
On the light fantastic toe ; 
And in thy right hand lead with thee 
The mountain nymph, sweet Liberty ; 
And if I give thee honour due, 
Mirth, admit me of thy crew. 
To live with her, and live with thee, 
In unreproved pleasures free. 
To hear the lark begin his flight, 
And singing startle the dull night. 
From his watch-tower in the skies. 
Till the dappled dawn doth rise ; 
Then to come in spite of sorrow. 
And at my window bid good morrow, 
Through the sweet-briar, or the \nne, 
Or the twisted eglantine : 
While the cock with lively din 
Scatters the rear of darkness thin, 
And to the stack, or the barn-door, 
Stoutly struts his dames before. 
Oft list'ning how the hounds and horn 
Cheerly rouse the slumb'ring morn, 
From the side of some hoar hill. 
Through the high wood echoing shrill : 




1 




"Come, and trip il as joii 1:0." — l'a,L;c 1 u. 



\ 



\->.^ 




DALLEGRO. 



113 



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^i~ 



•C'--' ■r ' 1! 



Some time walking, not unseen, 

By hedge-row elms, on hillocks green, 

Right against the eastern gate. 

Where the great sun begins his state. 

Robed in flames, and amber light. 

The clouds in thousand liveries dight ; 

While the ploughman near at hand 

Whistles o'er the furrow'd land. 

And the milkmaid singeth blithe, 

And the mower whets his scythe, 

And every shepherd tells his tale 

Under the hawthorn in the dale. 

Straiglit mine eye hath caught new pleasures 

Whilst the landscape round it measures ; 

Russet lawns, and fallows gray, 

W^here the nibbling flocks do stray, 

Mountains, on whose barren breast 

The lab 'ring clouds do often rest ; 

Meadows trim with daisies pied. 

Shallow brooks, and rivers wide. 

Towers and battlements it sees 

Bosom' d high in tufted trees. 

Where perhaps some Beauty lies. 

The Cjniosure of neighb'ring eyes. 

Hard by, a cottage-chimney smokes, 

From betwixt two aged oaks, 

Where Cor3'don and Thyrsis met. 

Are at their savoury dinner set 

Of herbs, and other country messes. 

Which the neat-handed Phillis dresses ; 

.\nd then in haste the bower she leaves, 

With Thestylis to bind the sheaves; 

Or, if the earlier season lead, 

To the tann'd haycock in the mead, 

Sometimes with secure delight 

The upland hamlets will invite. 

When the merry bells ring round. 

And the jocund rebecks sound 

To many a youth, aftd many a maid, 

Dancing in the chequer' d shade ; 

And young and old come forth to play 

On a sunshine holidav. 

Till the live-long daylight fail ; 

Then to the spicy nut-brown ale. 

With stories told of many a feat, 

How fairy Mab the junkets eat ; 

She was pinch'd, and pull'd, she said, 

And he by friar's lanthorn led, 

Tells how the drudging Goblin sweat, 

To earn his cream-bowl dulv set, 



W'l 






^ '. 




114 




EARL Y POEMS. 

When in one night, ere glimpse of mom, 

His shadowy flail hath thresh'd the corn, 

That ten day-lab'rers could not end; 

Then lies him down the lubber fiend. 

And stretch'd out all the chimney's length, 

Basks at the fire his hairy strength. 

And crop-full out of doors he flings, 

Ere the first cock his matin rings. 

Thus done the tales, to bed they creep, 

By whispering winds soon luU'd asleep. 

Tower'd cities please us then, 

And the busy hum of men, 

Where throngs of knights and barons bold 

In weeds of peace high triumphs hold, 

With store of ladies, whose bright eyes 

Rain influence, and judge the prize 

Of wit, or arms, while both contend 

To win her grace, whom all commend. 

There let Hymen oft appear 

In saffron robe, with taper clear, 

And pomp, and feast, and revelry. 

With mask, and antique pageantry, 

Such sights as youthful poets dream 

On summer eves by haunted stream. 

Then to the well-trod stage anon. 

If Jonson's learned sock be on. 

Or sweetest Shakespeare, Fancy's child. 

Warble his native wood-notes wild. 

And ever against eating cares, 
Lap me in soft Lydian airs, 
Married to immortal verse. 
Such as the meeting soul may pierce, 
In notes, with many a winding bout 
Of linked sweetness long drawn out. 
With wanton heed and giddy cunning, 
The melting voice through mazes running. 
Untwisting all the chains that tie 
The hidden soul of harmony ; 
That Orpheus self may heave his head 
From golden slumber on a bed 
Of heap'd Elysian flowers, and hear 
Such strains as would have won the ear 
Of Pluto, to have quite set free 
His half regain'd Eixrydice. 

These delights if thou canst give. 
Mirth, with thee I mean to live. 





" Lome, pciiii7\- men, devout a>id pure." — Page 115. 



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PENSEROSO. 



Hence, vain deluding joys, 

The brood of folly without father bred, 
How little you bestead, 

Or fill the fixed mind with all your toys ! 
Dwell in some idle brain, 

And fancies fond with gaudy shapes possess, 
As thick and numberless 

As the gay motes that people the sunbeams, 
Or likest hovering dreams 

The fickle pensioners of Morpheus' train. 
But hail thou Goddess, sage and holy, 

Hail divinest Melancholy, 
Whose saintly visage is too bright 
To hit the sense of human sight. 
And therefore to our weaker view 
O'erlaid vdth black, staid Wisdom's hue; 
Black, but such as in esteem 
Prince Memnon's sister might beseem 
Or that starr'd Ethiop queen that strove 
To set her beauty's praise above 
The Sea-Nymphs, and their pow'rs offended : 
Yet thou art higher far descended ; 
The bright-hair' d Vesta, long of yore, 
To solitary Saturn bore ; 
His daughter she (in Saturn's reign, 
Such mixture was not held a stain). 
Oft in glimmering bow'rs and glades 
He met her, and in secret shades 
Of woody Ida's inmost grove, 
While yet there was no fear of Jove. 
Come, pensive Nun, devout and pure, 
Sober, steadfast, and demure, 
All in a robe of darkest grain, 
Flo\\ing with majestic train, 
And sable stole of Cyprus lawn. 
Over thy decent shoulders drawn. 
Come, but keep thy wonted state, 
With even step, and musing gait, 
And looks commercing with the skies. 
Thy rapt soul sitting in thine eyes : 
There held in holy passion still, 
Forget thyself to marble, till 
With a sad leaden downward cast 
Thou fix them on the earth as fast : 
And Join with thee calm Peace, and Quiet, 
Spare Fast, that oft with Gods doth diet, 










^1 



*/ „ .*,' 




EARLY POEMS. 



And hears the Muses in a ring 

Aj-e round about Jove's altar sing : 

And add to these retired Leisure. 

That in trim gardens takes his pleasure ; 

But first, and chiefest, with thee bring 

Him that 5-on soars on golden wing, 

Guiding the fiery-wheeled throne, 

The Cherub Contemplation ; 

And the mute Silence hist along, 

'Less Philomel will deign a song, 

In her sweetest, saddest plight, 

Smoothing the rugged brow of night, 

While Cynthia checks her dragon yoke, 

Gently o'er the accustomed oak ; 

Sweet bird, that shunn'st the noise of folly 

Most musical, most melancholy ! 

Thee, chauntress, oft the woods among 

I woo, to hear thy even-song; 

And missing thee, I walk unseen 

On the dry smooth-shaven green. 

To behold the wandering moon, 

Riding near her highest noon. 

Like one that had been led astray 

Through the heav'n's wide pathless way 

And oft, as if her head she bow'd, 

Stooping through a fleecy cloud. 

Oft on a plat of rising ground, 

I hear the far-off curfew sound, 

Over some wide water' d shore, 

Swinging slow with sullen roar ; 

Or if the air will not permit. 

Some still removed place will fit. 

Where glowing embers through the room 

Teach light to counterfeit a gloom ; 

Far from all resort of mirth. 

Save the cricket on the hearth. 

Or the bellman's drowsy charm, 

To bless the doors from nightly harm. 

Or let my lamp at midnight hour 

Be seen in some high lonely tower, 

Where I may oft out-watch the Bear, 

With thrice-great Hermes, or unsphere 

The spirit of Plato, to unfold 

What worlds, or what vast regions hold 

The immortal mind, that hath forsook 

Her mansion in this fleshly nook : 

And of those Demons that are found 

In fire, air, flood, or under ground, 

Whose power hath a true consent 

With planet, or with element. 






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^^S^y.i?-' 



IL PENSEROSO. 



117 






Sometime let gorgeous tragech' 

In sceptred pall come sweeping by, 

Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, 

Or the tale of Troy divine, 

Or what (though rare) of later age 

Ennobled hath the buskin'd stage. 

But, O sad Virgin, that thy power 

Might raise Muste us from his bower. 

Or bid the soul of Orpheus sing 

Such notes as warbled to the string, 

Drew iron tears down Pluto's cheek, 

And made Hell grant what love did seek. 

Or call up him that left half told 

The story of Cambuscan bold, 

OfCamball, and of Algarsife, 

And who had Canace to wife, 

That own'd the virtuous ring and glass, 

And of the wondrous horse of brass. 

On which the Tartar king did ride ; 

And if aught else great bards beside 

In sage and solemn tunes have sung. 

Of turneys and of trophies hung. 

Of forests, and enchantments drear, 

Where more is meant than meets the ear. 

Thus Night oft see me in thy pale career. 

Till civil-suited Morn appear, 

Not trick'd and frounced as she was wont 

With the Attic boy to hunt, 

But kerchef'd in a comely cloud, 

While rocking winds are piping loud. 

Or usher'd with a shower still, 

When the gust hath blown his fill, 

Ending on the rustling leaves. 

With minute drops from off the eaves. 

And when the sun begins to fling 

His flaring beams, me. Goddess, bring 

To arched walks of twilight groves, 

And shadows brown that Sylvan loves 

Of pine, or monumental oak. 

Where the rude axe with heaved stroke 

Was never heard the Nymphs to daunt, 

Or fright them from their hallow'd haunt. 

There in close covert by some brook, 

^Vhere no profaner ej-e may look. 

Hide me from day's garish eye. 

While the bee with honied thigh. 

That at her flow'r\ work doth sing, 

And the waters murmurnig 

With such conso] t as they keep, 

Entice the dewy-fcathcr'd sleep ; 



5'. ■ ■>*£:.. 



^^!!>w 



>''"^;^^"' Cf 











EARLY POEMS. 



And let some strange mysterious dream 

Wave at his wings in airy stream 

Of lively portraiture display "d, 

Softly on my eyelids laid. 

And as I wake, sweet music breathe 

Above, about, or underneath, 

Sent by some Spirit to mortals good, 

Or the unseen Genius of the wood. 

But let my due feet never fail 

To walk the studious cloisters pale, 

And love the high embowtd roof. 

With antic pillars massy proof, 

And storied windows richly dight. 

Casting a dim religious light : 

There let the pealing organ blow. 

To the full voiced quire below, 

In service high, and anthems clear, 

As may with sweetness, through mine ear, 

Dissolve me into ecstasies. 

And bring all heav'n before mine eyes. 

And may at last my weary age 

Find out the peaceful hermitage. 

The hairy gown and mossy cell, 

Where I may sit and rightly spell 

Of every star that heav'n doth show 

And ev'ry herb that sips the dew ; 

Till old experience do attain 

To something like prophetic strain. 

These pleasures Melancholv give, 

And I with thee v.-ill choose to live. 



ARCADES. 

Part of an entertainment presented to the Countess Dowager of De- 
roy at Harefield, by some noble persons of her family, who appear 
on the scene in pastoral habit moving toward the seat of state, with 
this song : — 

SONG I. 

Look, nymphs, and shepherds look, 
What sudden blaze of majesty 
Is that which we from hence descry. 
Too divine to be mistook : 

This, this is she 
To whom our views and wishes bend : 
Here our solemn search hath end. 
Fame, that her high worth to raise, 
Seem'd erst so lavish and profuse, 
We may justlv now accuse 







ARCADES. 



119 




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/ ^ 



Of detraction from lier praise ; 

Less than half we find express'd, 

Envy bid conceal the rest. 
Mark what radiant state she spreads, 
In circle round her shining throne, 
Shooting her beams like silver threads ; 
This, this is she alone. 

Sitting like a Goddess bright. 

In the centre of her light. 
Might she the wise Latona be, 
Or the towered Cybele, 
Mother of a hundred Gods ? 
Juno dares not give her odds ; 

Who had thought this clime had held 

A deity so unparallel'd? 

As they come forward, the Genius of the Wood appears, and, 
turning towards them, speaks. 

Gen. Stay, gentle Swains, for though in this disguise, 

I see bright honour sparkle through }-our eyes ; 

Of famous Arcady ye are, and sprung 

Of that renowned flood, so often sung, 

Divine Alpheus, who by secret sluice 

Stole under seas to meet his Arethuse ; 

And }'e, the breathing roses of the wood. 

Fair silver-buskin 'd Nymphs, as great and good, 

I know this quest of yours, and free intent 

Was all in honour and devotion meant 

To the great mistress of yon princely shrine, 

Whom with low rev'rence I adore as mine. 

And with all helpful service will comply 

To further this night's glad solenmity ; 

And lead ye where ye may more near behold 

What shallow-searching Fame has left untold 

AVhich I full oft amidst these shades alone 

Have sat to wonder at, and gaze upon : 

For know, by lot from Jove I am the Power 

Of this fair wood, and live in oaken bower. 

To niu-se the saplings tall, and curl the grove 

With ringlets quaint, and wanton windings wove ; 

And all my plants I save from nightly ill 

Of noisome winds, and blasting vapours chill : 

And from the boughs brush off the evil dew. 

And heal the harms of thwarting thunder blue, 

Or what the cross dire-looking planet smites. 

Or hurtful worm with canker' d venom bites. 

When ev'ning grey doth rise, I fetch my rotmd. 

Over the mount, and all this hollow'd ground ; 

And early, ere the odorous breath of morn 

Awakes the slumb'ring leaves, or tassell'd horn 






ft^Ki% 




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EARL V POEMS. 



''■^ \\ ^' ' M\ 



Shakes the high thicket, haste I all about, 

Number my ranks, aud visit every sprout 

With puissant words, and murnmrs made to bless 

But else, in deep of night, when drowsiness 

Hath lock'd up mortal sense, then listen I 

To the celestial Sirens' harmony. 

That sit upon the nine infolded spheres. 

And sing to those that hold the vital shears, 

And turn the adamantine spindle round, 

On which the fate of Gods and men is wound. 

Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie. 

To lull the daughters of Necessity, 

And keep unsteady Nature to her law, 

And the low world in measured motion draw • 

After the heav'nly tune, which none can hear 

Of human mould, with gross unpurged ear; 

And yet such music worthiest were to blaze 

The peerless height of her immortal praise, 

"Whose lustre leads us, and for her most fit, 

If my inferior hand or voice could hit 

Inimitable sounds : yet as we go, 

Whate'er the skill of lesser Gods can show, 

I will assay, her worth to celebrate. 

And so attend ye toward her glitt'ring state ; 

Where ye may all that are of noble stem 

Approach, and kiss her sacred vesture's hem. 

SONG II. 

O'ER the smooth enamell'd green, 
Where no print of step hath been, 

Follow me as I sing, 

And touch the warbled string, 
Under the shady roof 
Of branching elm star-proof. 

Follow me, 
I will bring you where she sits. 
Clad in splendour as befits 

Her deity. 
Such a rural Queen 
All Arcadia hath not seen. 

SONG III. 

Nymphs and Shepherds dance no more 

By sandy Ladon's lilied banks, 
On old Lycseus or Cyllene hoar 

Trip no more in twilight ranks. 
Though Erymanth your loss deplore, 

A better soil shall give ye thanks. 










ARCADES. 

From the stony Msenalus 
Bring j-our flocks, and live with us ; 
Here 5-6 shall have greater grace, 
To serve the lady of this place ; 
Though Syrinx j^our Pan's mistress were, 
Yet Sj'rinx well might wait on her. 
Such a rural Queen 
All Arcadia hath not seen. 





iSi^ 






^ 



Comue, a flDasf^. 



Presented at Ludlow Castle before John, Earl of Bridgewater, then 
President of Wales. 

" Comus " was suggested to the Poet by the fact that the two sons 
and the daughter of the Earl of Bridgewater, on their return from a 
visit to some relations in Herefordshire, were benighted in Haywood 
Forest ; and the Lad}; Alice was, for a short time, lost. The Mask 
was written for the Michaelmas festivities of 1634, and acted by Lord 
Bridgewater's children. The music composed for it was by Henry 
Lawes, who performed in it the part of the Spirit, or Thyrsis. He 
was the son of Thomas Lawes, a Vicar-Choral ofSalisbury Cathedral, 
and was at first a chorister himself. He became finally one of the 
Court musicians to Charles I. Masks and music fled before the stern 
gloom of the Commonwealth, and Lawes was compelled to gain his 
living by teaching the lute. His greatest friends during this period 
of difficulty and poverty were the Ladies Alice and Mary Egerton. 
He lived to the Restoration, and composed the Coronation Anthem 
for Charles II. "Comus" was first published by Lawes, without 
Milton's name, in 1637, with a dedication to Lord Brackley. Masks 
were the fashion of the age ; and Milton was probably called on by 
Lord Bridgewater to produce one, becau.se he had already written the 
"Arcades " for Lady Bridgewater's mother. Lady Derby, at Harefield, 
in Middlesex. » 

THE PERSONS. 



First Brother. 
Second Brother. 
Sabrina, the Kymph. 




The attendant Spirit, afterwards 

in the habit of Thyrsis. 
Comus, with his crew. 
The Lady. 

THE CHIEF PERSONS WHO PRESENTED WERE— 

The Lord Brackley. I Mr. Thomas Egerton, his 

The Lady Alice Egerton. \ brother. 

The First Scene discovers a Wild Wood. 

The attendant Spirit descends or enters. 

Before the starry threshold of Jove's court 

My mansion is, where those immortal shapes 

Of bright aerial spirits live insphered 

In regions mild of calm and serene air, 

Above the smoke and stir of this dim spot, 

Which men call Bartli, and with low-thoughted care 

Confined, and pester'd in this pinfold here, 

Strive to keep up a frail and feverish being, 

Unmindful of the crown that virtue gives. 

After this mortal change, to her true servants. 

Amongst the enthroned Gods on sainted seats. 



/y-. 




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COMUS. 123 

Yet some there be that by due steps aspire 

To lay their just hands on that golden key, 

That opes the palace of eternity ; 

To such my errand is ; and but for such, 

I would not soil these pure ambrosial weeds 

With the rank vapours of this sin-worn mould. 

But to my task. Neptune, besides the sway 
Of every salt flood, and each ebbing stream. 
Took in by lot 'twixt high and nether Jove 
Imperial rule of all the sea-girt isles, 
That like to rich and various gems inlay 
The unadorned bosom of the deep ; 
Which he, to grace his tributary Gods, 
By course commits to sev'ral government. 
And gives them leave to wear their sapphire crowns, 
And wield their little tridents : but this Isle, 
The greatest and the best of all the main, 
He quarters to his blue-hair'd deities ; 
And all this tract that fronts the falUng sun 
A noble Peer of mickle trust and power 
Has in his charge, with tempered awe to guide 
An old and haughty nation proud in arms : 
Where his fair offspring, nursed in princely lore. 
Are coming to attend their father's state. 
And new-intrusted sceptre ; but their way 
Lies through the perplex'd paths of this drear wood. 
The nodding horror of whose shady brows 
Threats the forlorn and wand'ring passenger; 
And here their tender age migiit suffer peril. 
But that by quick command from sovereign Jove 
I was dispatch' d for their defence and guard ; 
And listen why, for I will tell you now 
What never yet was heard in tale or song. 
From old or modern bard, in hall or bower. 

Bacchus, that first from out the purple grape 
Crush'd the sweet poison of misused wine. 
After the Tuscan mariners transform' d, 
Coasting the Tvrrhene shore, as the winds listed. 
On Circe's Island fell : who knows not Circe, 
The daughter of the sun, whose charmed cup 
Whoever tasted, lost his upright shape, _ 
And downward fell into a grovelling swine ? 
This Nymph that gazed upon his clust'ring locks. 
With ivy berries wreath'd, and his blithe youth, 
Had by 'him, ere he parted thence, a son 
Much like his father, but his mother more. 
Whom therefore she brought up, and Conms named : 
Who ripe, and frolic of his full grown age. 
Roving the Celtic and Iberian fields, 
At last betakes him to this ominous wood. 





124 



COMUS. 



IK, 



^ i' 1 \\\ 






'b 




And in thick shelter of black shades imbower'd 

Excels his mother at her mighty art, 

Offering to ev'ry weary traveller 

His orient liquor in a crystal glass, 

To quench the drouth of Phoebus, which as thej- taste, 

( For most do taste through forid intemperate thirst) 

Soon as the potion works, their human count'nance, 

Th' express resemblance of the Gods, is changed 

Into some brutish form of wolf, or bear. 

Or ounce, or tiger, hog, or bearded goat, 

All other parts remaining as they were ; 

And they, so perfect in their misery. 

Not once perceived their foul disfigurement, 

But boast themselves more comely than before, 

And all their friends and native heme forget. 

To roll with pleasure in a sensual sty. 

Therefore, when any favour' d of high Jove 

Chances to pass through this adventurous glade. 

Swift as the sparkle of a glancing star 

I shoot from heav'n, to give him safe convoj', 

As now I do : But first I must put off 

These my sky robes spun out of Iris' woof, 

And take the weeds and likeness of a swain. 

That to the service of this house belongs, 

Who with his soft pipe, and smooth-dittied song, 

Well knows to still the wild winds when the}- roar, 

And hush the waving woods, nor of less faith, 

And in this office of his mountain watch, 

Likeliest, and nearest to the present aid 

Of this occasion. But I hear the tread 

Of hateful steps, I must be viewless now. 

Comus enters with a charming-rod in one hand, his grlass in the 
other ; with him a rout of monsters, headed like sundry sorts of 
wild beasts, but otherwise like men and women, their apparel 
glistening ; they come in making a riotous and unruly noise, with 
torches iu their hands. 

CoMUS. The star that bids the shepherd fold, 
Now the top of heaven doth hold ; 
And the gilded car of day 
His glowing axle doth allay 
In the steep Atlantic stream ; 
And the slope sun his upward beam 
Shoots against the dusky pole, 
Pacing toward the other goal 
Of his chamber in the east. 
Meanwhile welcome Joy, and Feast, 
Midnight Shout and Revelry, 
Tipsy Dance and Jollitj-. 
Braid your locks with rosy twine, 
Dropping odours, dropping vs-itie. 









di^^^^it^ 



COJIUS. 

Rigour now is gone to bed, 

And Advnce w-ith scrupulous head, 

Strict Age, and sour Severit}-, 

With their grave saws in slumber lie. 

We that are of purer fire 

Imitate the starry quire, 

Who in their nightly watchful spheres 

Lead in swift round the months and years. 

The sounds and seas, with all their finny drove, 

Now to the moon in wavering morrice move 

And on the tawny sands and shelves 

Trip the pert fairies and the dapper elves. 

By dimpled brook, and fountain brim, 

The wood-nymphs deck'd with daisies trim, 

Their merry wakes and pastimes keep ; 

What hath night to do with sleep ? 

Night hath better sweets to prove, 

Venus now wakes, and wakens Love 

Come let us our rites begin, 

'Tis only day-light that makes sin. 

Which these dun shades will ne'er report. 

Hail Goddess of nocturnal sport, 

Dark-veil'd Cotytto, t' whom the secret flame 

Of midnight torches burns ; mysterious dame. 

That ne'er art call'd, but when the dragon womb 

Of Stygian darkness spets her thickest gloom. 

And makes one blot of all the air ; 

Stay thy cloudy ebon chair. 

Wherein thou rid'st with Hecat, and befriend 

Us thy vow'd priests, till utmost end 

Of all thy dues be done, and none left out 

Ere the babbling eastern scout. 

The nice morn, on the Indian steep 

From her cabin 'd loophole peep 

And to the tell-tale sun descry 

Our conceal'd solemnity. 

Come, knit hands, and beat the ground 

In a light fantastic round. 



the; measure. 

Break off, break off, I feel the different pace 
Of some chaste footing near about this ground. 
Run to your shrouds, within these brakes and trees ; 
Our number may affright : Some virgin sure 
(For so I can distinguish by mine art) 
Benighted in these woods. Now to my charms, 
And to my wil}^ trains ; I shall ere long 
Be well-stock' d with as fair a herd as grazed 



125 



\i{ 







126 



COMUS. 




em 




%. 




^''fSfrf^ 



About my mother Circe. Thus I hurl 

My dazzHng spells into the spungy air, 

Of power to cheat the eye with blear illusion, 

And give it false presentments, lest the place 

And my quaint habits breed astonishment, 

And put the damsel to suspicious flight. 

Which must not be, for that's against my course: 

I, under fair pretence of friendly ends. 

And well-placed words of glozing court 

Baited with reasons not unplausible, 

Wind me into the easy-hearted man. 

And hug him into snares. When once her eye 

Hath met the virtue of this magic dust, 

I shall appear some harmless villager. 

Whom thrift keeps up about his country gear. 

But here she comes, I fairly step aside, 

And hearken, if I may, her business here. 

The lyadj' enters. 

IvADY. This way the noise was, if mine ear be true, 
My best guide now ; methought it was the sound 
Of riot and ill-managed merriment, 
Such as the jocund flute, or gamesome pipe 
Stirs up among the loose unletter'd hinds. 
When for their teeming flocks, and granges full, 
In wanton dance, they praise the bounteous Pan, 
And thank the Gods amiss. I should be loath 
To meet the rudeness, and swill'd insolence 
Of such late wassailers ; yet O where else 
Shall I inform my unacquainted feet 
In the blind mazes of this tangled wood ? 
My Brothers, when they saw me wearied out 
With this long way, resolving here to lodge 
Under the spreading favour of these pines, 
Stepp'd, as they said, to the next thicket side 
To bring me berries, or such cooling fruit 
As the kind hospitable woods provide. 
They left me then, when the grey-hooded Even 
Ivike a sad votarist in palmer's weed, 
Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phoebus' wain 
But where they are, and why they came not back. 
Is now the labour of my thoughts ; 'tis likeliest 
They had engaged their wandering steps too far; 
And envious darkness, ere they could return. 
Had stole them from me : else, O thievish Night, 
Why shouldst thou, but for some felonious end, 
In thy dark lantern thus close up the stars, 
That nature hung in heaven, and flU'd their lamps 
With everlasting oil, to give due light 



f/'; 





m 






Jhis zi'aj' Die noise was, if mine ear be Irue." — Page 126. 






COMUS. 

To the misled and lonely traveller? 
This is the place, as well as I may guess, 
Whence even now the tumult of loud mirth 
Was rife, and perfect in my listening ear. 
Yet nought but single darkness do I find. 
What might this be? A thousand fantasies 
Begin to throng into my memory, 
Of calling shapes, and beck'ning shadows dire, 
And airy tongues, that syllable men's names 
On sands, and shores, and desert wildernesses. 
These thoughts may startle well, but not astound 
The \'irtuous mind, that ever walks attended 
By a strong-siding champion, Conscience. 

welcome pure-eyed Faith, white-handed Hope, 
Thou hov'ring Angel, girt with golden wings, 
And thou, unblemish'd form of Chastity ! 

1 see j^e \asibly, and now believe 

That He, the Supreme Good, t' whom all things ill 

Are but as slavish officers of vengeance. 

Would send a glist'ring guardian, if need were. 

To keep my life and honour unassail'd. 

Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud 

Turn forth her silver lining on the night 

I did not err, there does a sable cloud 

Turn forth her silver lining on the night, 

And casts a gleam over this tufted grove : 

I cannot halloo to my Brothers, but 

Such noise as I can make to be heard farthest 

I'll venture, for my new enliven'd spirits 

Prompt me ; and they perhaps are not far off. 

SONG. 

Sweet Echo, sweetest nymph, that liv'st unseen 

Within thy airy shell, 
By slow Meander's margent green, 
And in the violet-embroider' d vale, 

Where the love-lorn nightingale 
Nightly to thee her sad song mourneth well ; 
Canst thou not tell me of a gentle pair 
That likest thy Narcissus are ? 
O, if thou have 
Hid them in some flowery cave. 

Tell me but where, 
Sweet queen of parly, daughter of the sphere ! 
So may'st thou be translated to the skies. 
And give resounding grace to all heav'n's harmonies. 

Enter Comus. 

Com. Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould 
Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment? 



127 



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';!.. 





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128 



COMUS. 




Sure something holy lodges in that breast, 

And with these raptures moves the vocal air 

To testify his hidden residence : 

How sweetly did they float upon the wings 

Of silence, through the empty-vaulted night, 

At every fall smoothing the raven down 

Of darkness till it smiled ! I have oft heard 

My mother Circe with the Sirens three, 

Amidst the flowery-kirtled Naiades, 

Culling their potent herbs, and baleful drugs, 

Who, as they sung, would take the prison'd soul, 

And lap it in Elysium ; Scylla wept, 

And chid her barking waves into attention, 

And fell Charj'bdis murmur' d soft applause : 

Yet they in pleasing slumber lull d the sense, 

And in sweet madness robb'd it of itself ; 

But such a sacred, and home-felt delight, 

Such a sober certainty of waking bliss 

I never heard till now. I'll speak to her, 

And she shall be my queen. Hail, foreign wonder ! 

Whom certain these rough shades did never breed. 

Unless the goddess that in rural shrine 

Dwell'st here with Pan, or Silvan, by blest song 

Forbidding every bleak unkindly fog 

To touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood. 

Lad. Nay, gentle Shepherd, ill is lost that praise 
That is address'd to unattending ears ; 
Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift 
How to regain my sever'd company, 
Compell'd me to awake the courteous Echo 
To give me answer from her mossy couch. 

Com. What chance, good Lady, hath bereft you thus ? 

Lad. Dim darkness, and this leafy labyrinth. 

Com. Could that divide you from near-ushering guides ? 

Lad. They left me weary on a grassy turf 

Com. By falsehood, or discourtesy, or why ? 

L-A-D. To seek i' th' valley some cool friendly spring. 

Com. And left your fair side all unguarded, Ivady ? 

Lad. They were but twain, and purposed quick return. 

Com. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them. 

Lad. How easy my misfortune is to hit ! 

Com. Imports their loss, besides the present need ? 

Lad. No less than if I should my Brothers lose 

Com. Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom ? 

Lad. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd lips. 

Com. Two such I saw, what time the labour'd ox 
In his loose traces from the furrow came. 
And the swink'd hedger at his supper sat ; 
I saw them under a green mantling vine 
That crawls along the side of you small hill. 



"«^ 



/// 








^_^^. 



COJIUS. 



129 




Plucking ripe clusters from the terfder shoots ; 

Their port was more thau human, as they stood : 

I took it for a faery vision 

Of some gay creatures of the element, 

That in the colours of the rainbow live, 

And play i' th' plighted clouds. I was awe-struck. 

And as I pass'd, I Avorshipp'd ; if those you seek. 

It were a journe}- like the path to heav'n, 

To help you find them. 

Lad. Gentle Villager, 
What readiest way would bring me to that place? 

Com. 1 )ue west it rises from this shrubby point. 

Lad. To find thnt out, good Shepherd, I suppose. 
In such a scant allowance of star-light, 
Would overtask the best land-pilot's art, 
Without the sure guess of well-practised feet. 

Com. I know each lane, aud every alley green 
Dingle or bushy dell of this wild wood, 
And every bosky bourn from side to side. 
My daily walks and ancient neighbourhood ; 
And if 3-our stray-attendants be yet lodged 
Or shroud within these limits. I shall know 
Ere morrow wake, or the low-roosted lark 
Fi'om her thatch'd pallet rouse ; if otherwise 
I can conduct you. Lady, to a low 
But loyal cottage, whe're you may be safe 
Till further quest. 

I/AD. Shepherd, I take thy word, 
Aud trust thy honest offer'd courtesy. 
Which oft is sooner found in lowly sheds 
With smoky rafters, than in tap'stry halls 
And courts of princes, where it first was named, 
And yet is most pretended : in a place 
Less warranted than this, or less secure, 
I cannot be, that I should fear to change it. 
Eye me, blest Providence, and square my trial 
To my proportion'd strength. Shepherd, lead on. 

Enter the two Brothers. 

I Br. LTnmuffle, 5^6 faint stars, and thou, fair moon, 
That wont'st to love the traveller's beuizcu, 
Stoop th}' pale visage through an amber cloud. 
And disinherit Chaos, that reigns here 
In double night of darkness and of shades ; 
Or if 5-our influence be quite damm'd up 
With black tisurping mists, some gentle taper, 
Though a a rush candle, from the w'icker-hole 
Of some clay habitation, visit us 
With thy long-levell'd rule of streaming light ; 
And thou shalt be our star of Arcady, 



(11^^?^ 






-^^y 



130 



COMUS. 



%M^\ 



Or TN-rian Cynosure. 

2 Br. Or if our eyes 
Be barr'd that happiness, might we but hear 
The folded flocks penn'd in their wattled cotes, 
Or sound of past'ral reed with oaten stops, 
Or whistle from the lodge, or village cock 
Count the night watches to his feathery dames, 
'Twould be some solace yet, some little cheering 
In this close dungeon of innumerous boughs. 
But O that hapless virgin, our lost Sister, 
Where may she wander now, whither betake her 
From the chill dew, among rude burs and thistles? 
Perhaps some cold bank is her bolster now. 
Or 'gainst the rugged bark of some broad elm 
I^eans her unpillow'd head, fraught with sad fears 
What, if in wild amazement, and affright, 
Or, while we speak, within the direful grasp 
Of savage hunger, or of savage heat? 

1 Br. Peace, Brother, be not over-exquisite 
To cast the fashion of uncertain evils ; 

For grant they be so, while they rest unknown, 

What need a man forestall his date of grief. 

And run to meet what he would niost avoid? 

Or if they be but false alarms of fear. 

How bitter is such self-delusion ! 

I do not think my Sister so to seek, 

Or so unprincipled in virtue's book. 

And the sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever, 

As that the single want of light and noise 

(Not being in danger, as I trust she is not) 

Could stir the constant mood of her calm thoughts 

And put them into misbecoming plight. 

Virtue could see to do what virtue would 

By her own radiant light, though sun and moon 

Were in the flat sea sunk. And Wisdom's self 

Oft seeks to sweet retired solitude, 

Where with her best nurse Contemplation 

She plumes her feathers, and lets grow her wings. 

That in the various bustle of resort 

Were all-to ruffled, and sometimes impair'd. 

He that has light within his own clear breast. 

May sit i' th' centre, and enjoy bright day : 

But he that hides a dark soul, and foul thoughts, 

Benighted walks under the mid-day sun ; 

Himself is his own dungeon. 

2 Br. 'Tis most true. 

That musing meditation most affects 

The pensive secrecy of desert cell. 

Far from the cheerful haunt of men and herds. 

And sits as safe as in a senate house ; 





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€.s^-£^ ^ 










COMUS. 



131 



, ,1,11. , 



For who would rob a hermit of his weeds, 
His few books, or his beads, or maple dish, 
Or do his grey hairs any violence ? 
But beauty, like the fair Hesperian tree 
Laden with blooming gold, had need the guard 
Of dragon watch with unenchanted eye, 
To save her blossoms, and defend her fruit 
From the rash hand of bold incontinence. 
You may as well spread out the unsunn'd heaps 
Of miser's treasure by an outlaw's den, 
And tell me it is safe, as bid me hope 
Danger will wink on opportunity. 
And let a single helpless maiden pass 
Uninjured in this wild surrounding waste. 
Of night, or loneliness, it recks me not ; 
I fear the dread events that dog them both. 
Lest some ill-greeting touch attempt the person 
Of our unowned Sister. 

1 Br. I do not. Brother 

Infer, as if I thought my Sister's state 
Secure without all doubt, or controversy ; 
Yet where an equal poise of hope and fear 
Does arbitrate th' event, my nature is 
That I incline to hope, rather than fear. 
And gladly banish squint suspicion. 
My Sister is not so defenceless left. 
As you imagine ; she has a hidden strength 
Which you remember not. 

2 Br. What hidden strength. 

Unless the strength of Heav'n, if you mean that ? 

I Br. I mean that too. but yet a hidden strength, 
Which, if Heav n gave it, may be term'd her own ; 
'Tis chastity, my Brother, chastity : 
She that has that, is clad in complete steel, 
And like aquiver'd Nymph with arrows keen 
May trace huge forests, and unharbour'd heaths, 
Infamous hills, and sandy perilous wilds, 
Where through the sacred rays of chastity, 
No savage fierce, bandit, or mountaineer 
Will dare to soil her virgin purity : 
Yea there, where very desolation dwells. 
By grots, and caverns shagg'd with horrid shades, 
She may pass on with unblench'd majesty, 
Be it not done in pride, or in presumption. 
Some say no evil thing that walks by night, 
In fog, or fire, by lake, or moorish fen. 
Blue meagre hag, or stubborn unlaid ghost, 
That breaks his magic chains at curfew time. 
No goblin, or swart faery of the mine, 
Hath hurtful power o'er true virginity. 




v^ ■'m^m^-2' 



\^ 






''B 



132 COM us. 

Do ye believe me yet, or shall I call 

Antiquity from the old schools of Greece 

To testif}' the arms of chastity ? 

Hence had the huntress Dian her dread bow, 

Fair silver-shafted queen, for ever chaste, 

Wherewith she tamed the brinded lioness 

And spotted mountain pard, but set at nought 

The frivolous bolt of Cupid; Gods and men 

Fear'd her stern frown, and she was queen o' th' woods. 

What was that snakj'-headed Gorgon shield, 

That wise Minerva wore, unconquer'd virgin, 

Wherewith she freezed her foes to congeal'd stone, 

But rigid looks of chaste austerity, 

And noble grace that dash'd brute violence 

With sudden adoration and blank awe ? 

So dear to heav'u is saintly chastity. 

That wh.en a soul is found sincerely so, 

A thousand liveried angels lacky her. 

Driving far off each thing of sin and guilt. 

And in clear dream, and solemn vision. 

Tell her of things that no gross ear can hear. 

Till oft converse with heav'nly habitants 

Begin to cast a beam on th' outward shape. 

The unpolluted temple of the inind, 

And turns it by degrees to the soul's essence. 

Till all be made immortal : but when lust, 

By unchaste looks, loose gestures, and foul talk, 

But most by lewd and lavish act of sin, 

Lets in defilement to the inward parts, 

The soul grows clotted by contagion, 

Imbodies, and imbrutes, till she quite lose 

The divine property of her first being. 

Such are those thick and gloomy shadows damp 

Oft seen in charnel vaults, and sepulchres, 

Ling'ring and sitting by a new-made grave, 

As loath to leave the body that it loved. 

And link'd itself by carnal sensuality 

To a degenerate and degraded slate. 

- 2 Br. How charming is divine philosophy ! 
Not harsh, and crabbtd, as dull fools suppose, 
But musical, as is Apollo's lute, 

And a perpetual feast of nectar'd sweets, 

- Where no crude surfeit reigns. 

1 Br. List, list, I hear 

Some far off halloo break the silent air. 

2 Br. Methought so too : what should it be ? 
I Br. For certain • 

Either some one like us night-founder' d here. 
Or else some neighbour woodman, or, at worst, 
vSome roving robber calling to his fellows. 



■f:> 







^«s^^ - ~~- 



^^T^sk "t 



'^^% 




T^ 



CO 31 us. 133 

2 Br. Heav'u keep my Sister. Again, again, and near ; 
Best draw, and stand iipon our guard. 

1 Br. I'll halloo; 

If he be friendly, he comes well ; if not. 
Defence is a good cause, and Heav'u be for us 

Enter the attendant Spirit, habited like a shepherd. 

That halloo I should know, what are you ? speak ; 
Come not too near, vou fall on iron stakes else. 

Spir. What voice'is that ? my young Lord ? speak agam. 

2 Br. O brother, 'tis my father's shepherd, sure. 

'' I Br. Thyrsis? whose artful strains have oft delay'd 
The huddling brook to hear his madrigal. 
And sweeteu'd every muskrose of the dale. 
How cam'st thou here, good swain ? hath any ram 
Slipt from the fold, or young kid lost his dam, 
Or straggling whether the pent flock forsook? 
How couldst thou find this dark sequester' d nook? 

Spir. O my loved master's heir, and his next joy, 
I came not here on such a trivial toy 
As a stray 'd ewe, or to pursue the stealth 
Of pilfering wolf; not all the fleecy wealth 
That doth enrich these downs is worth a thought 
To this mv errand, and the care it brought. 
But, O my \nrgin Lady, where is she ? 
How chance she is not in yoiu: company ? 

I Br. To tell thee sadly. Shepherd, without blame. 
Or our neglect, we lost her as we came. 

Spir. Aye me unhappy ! then my fears are true. 
I Br. What fears, good Thyrsis? Prithee briefly show. 
Spir. I'll tell ye ; 'tis not vain or fabulous. 
Though so esteem'd by shallow ignorance, 
What'the sage poets, taught by th' heav'nly Muse, 
Storied of old, in high immortal verse. 
Of dire chimeras, and enchanted isles. 
And rifted rocks whose entrance leads to Hell ; 
For such there be, but unbelief is blind. 
Within the navel of this hideous wood. 
Immured in cypress shades a sorcerer dwells, 
Of Bacchus and of Circe born, great Comus. 
Deep skill' d in all his mother's witcheries, 
And here to every thirsty wanderer 
By slv enticement gives his baneful cup. 
With' many murmurs mix'd, whose pleasing poison 
The visage quite transforms of him that drinks. 
And the inglorious likeness of a beast 
Fixes instead, unmoulding reason's mintage 
Character'd in the face : this I have learnt 
Tending my flocks hard by i' th' hilly crofts, 




r^K-i"**'-^'*^ 




u 






\ 






134 



COMUS. 



That brow this bottotn-glade, whence, night by night, 
He and his monstrous rout are heard to howl, 
Like stabled wolves, or tigers at their pre}^ 
Doing abhorred rites to Hecate 
In their obscured haunts of inmost bowers. 
Yet have they many baits, and guileful spells, 
T' inveigle and invite th' unwary sense 
Of them that pass unweeting by the way. 
This ev'ning late, by then the chewing flocks 
Had ta'en their supper on the savoury herb 
Of knot-grass dew-besprent, and were in fold, 
I sat me down to watch upon a bank 
With ivy canopied, and interwove 
With flaunting honey-suckle, and began, 
Wrapt in a pleasing fit of melancholy, 
To meditate my rural ministrelsy. 
Till fancy had her fill, but ere a close. 
The wonted roar was up amidst the woods. 
And fill'd the air with barbarous dissonance ; 
At which I ceased, and listen 'd them a while. 
Till an unusual stop of sudden silence 
Gave respite to the drowsy frighted steeds, 
That draw the litter of close-curtain'd sleep. 
At last a soft and solemn-breathing sound 
Rose like a steam of rich distill'd perfumes. 
And stole upon the air, that even Silence 
Was took ere she was ware, and wish'd she might 
Deny her nature, and be never more, 
\Still to be so displaced. I was all ear. 
And took in strains that might create a soul 
Under the ribs of death ; but O ere long 
Too well I did perceive it was the voice 
Of my most honour'd Lady, your dear Sister. 
Amazed I stood, harrow'd with grief and fear, 
And O poor hapless nightingale thought I, 
How sweet thou sing'st, how near the deadly snare ! 
Then down the lawns I ran with headlong haste. 
Through paths and turnings often trod by day, 
Till guided by mine ear I found the place. 
Where that damn'd wisard, hid in sly disguise, 
(For so by certain signs I knew) had met 
Already, ere my best speed could prevent. 
The aidless innocent Lady his wish'd prey. 
Who gently ask'd if he had seen such two, 
Supposing him some neighbour villager. 
Longer I durst not stay, but soon I guess 'd 
Ye were the two she meant ; with that I sprung 
Into swift flight, till I had found you here. 
But further know I not. 
2 Br. O night and shades. 



i 





COMUS. 



135 



How are ye join'd with Hell in triple knot, 
Against tlie nnarui'd weakness of one virgin, 
Alone and helpless ! Is this the confidence 
You gave me, Brother ? 

I Br. Yes, and keep it still, 
Lean on it safely ; not a period 
Shall be unsaid for me : against the threats 
Of malice or of sorcery, or that power 
Which erring men call Chance, this I hold firm, 
Virtue may be assail'd, but never hurt, 
Surprised by unjust force, but not enthrall'd ; 
Yea even that which mischief meant most harm. 
Shall in the happy trial prove most glory : 
But evil on itself shall back recoil. 
And mix no more with goodness, when at last 
Gather'd like scum, and settled to itself. 
It shall be in eternal restless change 
Self-fed, and self-consumed : if this fail. 
The pillar' d firmament is rottenness, 
And earth's base built on stubble. But come, let's on. 
Against the opposing will and arm of heaven 
May never this just sword be lifted up ; 
But for that damn'd musician, let him be girt 
With all the grisly legions that troop 
Under the sooty flag of Acheron, 
Harpies and H^-dras, or all the monstroixs forms 
'Twixt Africa and Ind, I'll find him out, 
And force him to return his purchase back. 
Or drag him by the curls to a foul death. 
Cursed as his life. 

Spir. Alas ! good vent'rous youth, 
I love thy courage 5'et, and bold emprise ; 
But here thy sword can do thee little stead. 
Far other arms and other weapons must 
Be those that quell the might of hellish charms : 
He with his bare wand can unthread thy joints, 
And cnimble all thy sinews. 

I Br. Why prithee, Shepherd, 
How durst thou then thyself approach so near. 
As to make this relation ? 

Spir. Care and utmost shifts 
How to secure the Lady from surprisal. 
Brought to my mind a certain shepherd lad. 
Of small regard to see to, yet well skill'd 
In every Aartuous plant and healing herb. 
That spreads her verdant leaf to th' morning ray : 
He loved me well, and oft would beg me sing. 
Which when I did, he on the tender grass 
Would sit, and hearken e'en to ecstasy. 
And in requital ope his leathern scrip, 





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136 



COMUS. 



t^ 





'^ 



And show me simples of a thousand names, 

Telling their strange and vigorous faculties : 

Amongst the rest a small unsightly root, 

But of divine effect, he cull'd me out ; 

The leaf was darkish, and had prickles on it, 

But in another country, as he said. 

Bore a bright golden flow'r, but not in this soil : 

Unknown, and like esteem'd, and the dull swain 

Treads on it daily with his clouted shoon 

And yet more med'cinal is it than that moly 

That Hermes once to wise Ulysses gave ; 

He call'd it haemony, and gave it me. 

And bad me keep it as of sovereign use 

'Gainst all enchantment, mildew, blast, or damp, 

Or ghastly furies' apparition. 

I pursed it up, but little reck'ning made, 

Till now that this extremity compell'd : 

But now I find it true ; for by this means 

I knew the foul enchanter though disguised, 

Enter'd the very lime-twigs of his spells. 

And yet came off : if you have this about j^ou, 

(As I will give j'ou when we go) you may 

Boldly assault the necromancer's hall ; 

"Where if he be, with dauntless hardihood. 

And brandish'd blade rush on him, break his glass, 

And shed the luscious liquor on the ground. 

But seize his wand ; thovigh he and his cursed crew 

Fierce sign of battle make, and menace high. 

Or like the sons of Vulcan vomit smoke. 

Yet will they soon retire, if he but shrink. 

I Br. Thyrsis, lead on apace, I'll follow thee. 
And some good Angel bear a shield before us. 

The Scene changes to a stately palace, pet out with all manner of 
deliciousness ; soft music, talSles spread with all dainties. Comus 
appears with his rabble, and the Lady set in an enchanted chair, 
to whom he offers his glass, which she puts by, and goes about to 
rise. 

Com. Na)^, Lady, sit ; if I but wave this wand, 
Your nerves are all chain 'd up in alabaster, 
And you a statue, or as Daphne was 
Root-bound, that fled Apollo. 

Lad. Fool, do not boast, 
Thou canst not touch the freedom of my mind 
With all thy charms, although this corporal rind 
Thou hast immanacled, while Heav'n sees good. 

Com. Why are you vext, Lady ? why do you frown ? 
Here dwell no frowns, nor anger ; from these gates 
Sorrow flies far : See, here be all the pleasures 
That fancy can beget on youthful thoughts. 
When the fresh blood grows lively, and returns 




\s 






COMUS. 



137 



Brisk as the April buds in primrose-season. 

And first behold this cordial julep here, 

That flames, and dances in his cr3'Stal bounds, 

With spirits of balm, and fragrant syrups mix'd. 

Not that Nepenthes, which tlie wife of Thone 

In ^Egypt gave to Jove-born Helena, 

Is of such power to stir up joy as this. 

To life so friendly, or so cool to thirst. 

Why should you be so cruel to yourself. 

And to those dainty limbs which Nature lent 

For gentle usage, and soft delicacy ? 

But you invert the covenants of her trust, 

And harshly deal, like an ill borrower. 

With that which you received on other terms ; 

Scorning the unexempt condition 

By which all mortal frailty must subsist, 

Refreshment after toil, ease after pain. 

That have been tired all day without repast. 

And timely rest have wanted ; but, fair Virgin, 

This will restore all soon. 

Lad. 'Twill not, false traitor, 
'Twill not restore the truth and honesty 
That thou hast banish'd from thj- tongue with lies. 
W^as this the Cottage, and the safe abode 
Thou toldst me of? What grim aspects are these, 
These ugly-headed monsters ? Mercy guard me ! 
Hence with thy brew'd enchantments, foul deceiver; 
Hast thou betray'd my credulous innocence 
With visor'd falsehood and base forgery ? 
And wouldst thou seek again to trap me here 
With liquorish baits fit to ensnare a brute? 
Were it a draught for Juno when she banquets, 
I would not taste th}' treasonous offer ; none 
But such as are good men can give good things, 
And that which is not good, is not delicious 
To a well-govern 'd and wise appetite. 

Com. O foolishness of men ! that lend their ears 
To those budge doctors of the Stoic fur, 
And fetch their precepts from the Cynic tub. 
Praising the lean and sallow Abstinence. 
Wherefore did Nature pour her bounties forth, 
With such a full and unwithdrawing hand. 
Covering the earth with odours, fruits, and flocks, 
Thronging the seas with spawn innumerable, 
But all to please, and sate the curious taste ? 
And set to work millions of spinning worms. 
That in their green shops weave the sniooth-hair'd silk 
To deck her sons ; and that no corner might 
Be vacant of her plent}-, in her own loins 
She hutch'd the all-worshipp'd ore, and precious gems. 







"Sbr*-* 



1.^8 



COMUS. 



\ 'iiim.il 



To store her children with : if all the world 

Should in a pet of temp'rance feed on pulse, 

Drink the clear stream, and nothing wear but frieze, 

Th' All-giver would be unthank'd, would be unpraised, 

Not half his riches known, and yet despised ; 

And we should serve him as a grudging master, 

As a penurious niggard of his wealth ; 

And live like Nature's bastards, not her sons. 

Who would be quite surcharged with her own weight, 

And strangled with her waste fertility ; 

Th' earth cumber'd, and the wing'dair dark'd with plumes. 

The herds would over-multitude their lords, 

Theseao'erfraughtwouldswell,and the unsought diamond 

Would so emblaze the forehead of the deep, 

And so bestud with stars, that they below 

Would grow inured to light, and come at last 

To gaze upon the sun with shameless brows. 

List, Lady, be not coy, and be not cozen'd. 

With that same vaunted name Virginity. 

Beavity is Nature's coin, must not be hoarded 

But must be current, and the good thereof 

Consists in mutual and partaken bliss. 

Unsavoury in th' enjoyment of itself; 

If you let slip time, like a neglected rose 

It withers on the stalk with languish'd head. 

Beauty is Nature's brag, and must be shown 

In courts, at feasts, and high solemnities. 

Where most may wonder at the workmanship ; 

It is for homely features to keep home. 

They had their name thence ; coarse complexions, 

And cheeks of sorry grain, will serve to ply 

The sampler, and to tease the huswife's wool. 

What need a vermeil -tinctured lip for that, 

Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn ? 

There was another meaning in these gifts, 

Think what, and be advised, you are but young yet. 

Lad. I had not thought to have unlockt my lips 
In this unhallow'd air, but that this juggler 
Would think to charm my judgment, as mine eyes, 
Obtruding false rules prank 'd in reason's garb. 
I hate when vice can bolt her arguments, 
And virtue has no tongue to check her pride. 
Impostor, do not charge most innocent Nature, 
As if she would her children should l^e riotous 
With her abundance ; she, good cateress, 
Means her provision only to the good. 
That live according to her sober laws. 
And holy dictate of spare temperance : 
If every just man, that now pines with want, 
Had but a moderate and beseeminer share 




^^^'*' 



jf-^^^y 



^-^^-^— ^^.^^ 



COMUS. 139 

\ : ]!i' Of that which lewdly-pamper'd hixury 

■'■' \ \ ii Now heaps upon some few with vast excess, 

'A V J I' Nature's full blessings would be well dispensed 

■•XV I In unsuperfiuous even proportion , 

' ' " And she no whit incumber' d with her store ; 

And then the giver would be better thank'd, 
His praise due paid ; for swinish gluttony 
Ne'er looks to heav'n amidst his gorgeous feast, 
But with besotted base ingratitude 
Crams, and blasphemes his feeder. Shall I go on ? 
Or have I said enough ? To him that dares 
Arm his profane tongue with contemptuous words 
\gainst the sun-clad power of Chastity, 
Fain would I something say, yet to what end ? 
Thou hast nor ear, nor soul to apprehend 
The sublime notion, and high mystery, 
That must be utter'd to unfold the sage 
And serious doctrine of Virginity, 
And thou art worthy that thou shouldst not know 
More happiness than this thy present lot. 
/ Enjoy your dear wit, and gay rhetoric, 

' k J \ That 'hath so well been taught her dazzhng fence, 

\i. ' Thou art not fit to hear thyself convmced; 

Yet should I trv, the uncontrolled worth 
Of this pure cause would kindle my rapt spirits 
To such a flame of sacred vehemence. 
That dumb things would be moved to sympathize, 
\nd the brute earth would lend her nerves, and shake, 




m 



Till all thy magic structures rear'd so high, / 

Were shatter' dlnto heaps o'er thy false head. 4 

Com. She fables not, I feel that I do fear | 

Her words set off by some superior power :_ ™^^^^^^^^ 

And though not mortal, yet a cold shudd'rmg dew ',| Mm 

Dips me all o'er, as when the wrath of Jove .-J*- V 

Speaks thunder, and the chains of Erebus, 
To some of Saturn's crew. I must dissemble, 
And try her vet more strongly. Come, no more, 
This is mere moral babble, and direct 
Against the canon-laws of our foundation ; 
I must not suffer this, yet 'tis but the lees 
And settlings of a melancholy blood : 
But this will cure all straight, one sip of this 
Will bathe the drooping spirits in delight. 
Beyond the bliss of dreams. Be wise, and taste.— 

The Brothers rush in with swords drawn, wrest his glass out of his 
hand, and break it against the ground ; his rout make sign ot re- 
sistance, but are all driven in. 
The attendant Spirit comes in. 

Spir. What, have you let the false enchanter 'scape? 
O ve mistook, ye should have snatch'd his wand, 




^mm^ 





140 COMUS. 

And bound him fast ; without his rod reversed, 

And backward mutters of dissevering power, 

We cannot free the Lady that sits here 

In stony fetters fix'd, and motionless. 

Yet stay, be not disturb'd : now I bethink me. 

Some other means I have which may be used, 

Which once of Mehboeus old I learat, 

The soothest shepherd that e'er piped on plains. 

There is a gentle nymph not far from hence. 
That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream, 
Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure ; 
Whilome she was the daughter of Locrine, 
That had the sceptre from his father Brute. 
She, guiltless damsel, flying the mad pursuit 
Of her enraged stepdame Guendolen, 
Commended her fair innocence to the flood. 
That stay'd her flight with his cross-flowing course. 
The water nymphs that in the bottom play'd, 
Held up their pearled wrists, and took her in. 
Bearing her straight to aged Nereus' hall. 
Who piteous of her woes, rear'd her lank head, 
And gave her to his daughters to imbathe 
In nectar'd lavers strow'd with asphodel, 
J|, And through the porch and inlet of each sense 

'"' Dropp'd in ambrosial oils, till she revived, 

And underwent a quick immortal change. 
Made Goddess of the river : still she retains 
Her maiden gentleness, and oft at eve 
Visits the herds along the twilight meadows, 
Helping all urchin blasts, and ill-luck signs 
That the shrewd meddling elf delights to make. 
Which she with precious vial'd liquors heals. 
For which the shepherds at their festivals 
Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays, 
And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream 
Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils. 
And, as the old swain said, she can unlock 
The clasping charm, and thaw the numbing spell, 
If she be right invoked in warbled song. 
For maidenhood she loves, and wi-l be swift 
To aid a virgin, such as was herself, 
In hard-besetting need ; this will I try. 
And add the power of some adjuring verse. 

SONG. 

Sabrina fair, 

Listen where thou art sitting 

Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, 
In twisted braids of lilies knitting 

The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair ; 




' ■«:3S^r.-'3i-^ 



'\J 







C03IUS. 



141 






Listen for dear lionour's sake, 

Goddess of the silver lake, 
Listen and save. 
Listen and appear to us 
In name of great Oceanus, 
By til' earth-sliaking Nepturie's mace, 
And Tetliys' grave majestic pace, 
By lioary Nereus' wrinkled look. 
And the Carpathian wisard's hook, 
By scaly Triton's winding shell, 
And old soothsa3-ing Glaucus' spell, 
By Leucothea's lovely hands. 
And her son that rules the strands, 
By Thetis' tinsel-slipper'd feet. 
And the songs of Sirens sweet, 
B}' dead Parthenope's dear tomb, 
And fair Ligea's golden comb, 
AVherewith she sits on diamond rocks. 
Sleeking her soft alluring locks, 
B}- all the nymphs that nightly dance 
LTpon thy streams with wih* glance, 
Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head 
From thy coral-paven bed, 
And bridle in thy headlong wave, 
Till thou our summons answer'd have. 

Listen and save. 

Sabrina rises, aUended by water-nymphs, a:id sings. 

By the rushy-fringed bank 

Where grows the willow and the osier dank, 

My sliding chariot stays, 
Thick set with agate, and the azure sheen 
Of turkis blue, and emerald green. 

That in the channel strays ; 
Whilst from off the waters neet. 
Thus I set my printless feet 
O'er the cowslip's velvet head. 

That bends not as I tread ; 
Gentle Swain, at thy request 

I am here. 

Sp. Goddess dear, 
We implore thy pow'rful hand 
To undo the charmed band 
Of true virgin here distrest. 
Through the force, and through the wile 
Of unblest enchanter vile. 

Sabr. Shepherd, 'tis my office best 
To help insnared chastity : 
Brighttst Lady, look on me ; 
Thus I sprinkle on ti'-- ire '-t 




».i*-^^ 








,| i 142 COM US. 

])' Drops that from my fountain pure 

if I have kept of precious cure, 

I '^ III Thrice upon thy finger's tip, 

\ ^' ' 'I Thrice upon thy rubied lip ; 

' ' Next this marble venom'd seat. 

Smear' d with gums of glutinous heat, 
I touch with chaste palms moist and cold : 
^^ ' Now the spell hath lost his hold ; 

And I must haste ere morning hour 
To wait in Amphitrite's bower. 

Sabrina descends, and the I,ady rises out of her seat. 

Sp. Virgin, daughter of Locrine 

Sprung of old Anchises' line, 

May thy brimmed waves for this 

Their full tribute never miss 

From a thousand petty rills, 

That tumble down the snowy hills : 

Summer drouth, or singed air 
1 Never scorch thy tresses fair, 

Nor wet October's torrent flood 

Thy molten crystal fill with mud ; 
) May thy billows roll ashore 

j The beryl, and the golden ore ; 

May thy lofty head be crown' d 

With many a tow'r and terrace round, 
! And here and there thy banks upon 

{ With groves of myrrh and cinnamon. 

Come, Lady, while Heav'n lends us grace, 

Let us fly this cursed place, 
I Lest the sorcerer us entice 

With some other new device. 

Not a waste, or needless sound, 

Till we come to holier ground ; 

I shall be your faithful guide 

Through this gloomy covert wide, 

And not many furlongs thence 

Is your Father's residence, 

Where this night are met in state 

Many a friend to gratulate 

His wish'd presence, and beside 

All the swains that there abide, 

With jigs, and rural dance resort; 

We shall catch them at their sport, 

And our sudden coming there 

Will double all their mirth and cheer ; 
5* Come, let us haste, the stars grow high , 

But night sits monarch yet in the mid sky. 

The Scene changes, presenting Ludlow town and the President's 
castle ; then come in country dancers, after them the attendant 

. Spirit, with the two Brothers and the Ladv. 

,^ 



% 




W^:. 




\4 \^ ^;w 



..3) 



mm 



COMUS. 



SONC 



143 



Sp. Back, Shepherds, back, enough your plaj-, 
Till next sunshine holiday ; 
Here be without duck or nod 
Other trippings to be trod 
Of lighter toes, and such court guise 
x.\ As Mercury did first de\ase. 
With the mincing Drj^ades, 
On the lawns, and on the leas. 

This second Song presents them to their Father and Mother. 

Noble Lord, and Lady bright, 

I have brought ye new delight, 

Here behold so goodly grown 

Three fair branches of your own ; 

Heav'n hath timely tried their youth. 

Their faith, their patience, and their truth, 

And sent them here through hard assays 

With a crown of deathless praise. 

To triumph in victorious dance 

O'er sensual folly, and intemperance. 

The dances ended, the Spirit epiloguises. 

Sp. To the ocean now I fly, 
And those happy climes that lie 
Where day never shuts his eye. 
Up in the broad fields of the sky : 
There I suck the liquid air 
All amidst the gardens fair 
Of Hesperus, and his daughters three 
That sing about the golden tree : 
Along the crisped shades and bowers 
Revels the spruce and jocund Spring, 
The Graces, and the rosy-bosom'd Hours, 
Thither all their bounties bring ; 
There eternal Summer dwells. 
And west-winds, with musky wing. 
About the cedarn alleys fling 
— Nard and cassia's balmy smells. 
Iris there with humid bow 
Waters the odorous banks, that blow 
Flowers of more mingled hue 
Than her purfled scarf can show, 
And drenches with Elysian dew 
(List mortals, if your ears be true) 
Beds of hyacinth and roses, 
Where young Adonis oft reposes. 
Waxing well of his deep wound 
In slumber soft, and on the ground 



'A 




^^^a 




fe- 




144. 



COMUS. 



i' \ 






'Sadly sits th' Assyrian queen ; 
But far above in spangled sheen 
Celestial Cupid her famed son advanced, 
Holds his dear Psyche sweet entranced, 
After her wand'riug labours long, 
Till free consent the Gods among 
Make her his eternal bride, 
And from her fair unspotted side 
Two blissful twins are to be born, 
Youth and Joy ; so Jove hath sworn. 
But now my task is smoothly done, 
I can fly, or I can run 
Quickly to the green earth's end, 
Where the bow'd welkin slow doth bend, 
And from thence can soar as soon 
To the comers of the moon. 

Mortals, that would follow me. 
Love Virtue, she alone is free, 
She can teach ye how to climb 
Higher than the sphery chime : 
Or, if Virtiie feeble were, 
Heav'n itself would stoop to her. 



t 



Ik 



X^cibas, 



1637. 

In this Monody the author bewails a learned friend, unfortu- 
nately drowned in his passage from Chester on the Irish seas, 1637 ; 
and by occasion foretells the ruin of the corrupted clergy, then in 
their height. 

Yet once more, O ye laurels, and once more 
Ye myrtles bro^^n, with ivj' never serp, 
I come to pluck your berries harsh and crude. 
And with forced fingers rude. 
Shatter your leaves before the mellowing year. 
Bitter constraint, and sad occasion dear, 
Compels me to disturb ^-our season due : 
For Lycidas is dead, dead ere his prime. 
Young LA'cidas, and hath not left his peer : 
Who would not sing for Lyci^das ? He knew 
Himself to sing, and build the lofty rhyme. 
He must not float upon his watery bier . 
Unwept, and welter to the parching wind, 
Without the uieed of some uielodrous ^tear. 



?)'l-it1^| 








T 



L YCJDAS. 



145 



Be<:'in then, Sisters of the sacred well, 
?hat from beneath the seat of Jove doth spring, 
BeSn and somewhat loudly sweep the string. 
Helice with denial vain, and coy excuse. 
So may some gentle Muse ^ . , ,^^„ 
\Vith lucky words favour my destined urn 
And as he passes turn, , > j 

And bid fair peace be to my sable shroud 
For we were nursed upon the self-same hill 
Fed the same flock by fountain, shade, and nil. 

Together both, ere the high lawns appear d 
Undel- the opening eyelids of the mo^n 
We drove a field, and both together heard 
What time the grev-fly winds her sultry horn. 
Baling our flecks w'ith the fresh dews of night. 
Oft till the star that rose, at evening, bright, 
?o^^Sd heav'n's descent'had sloped his west'nng wheel. 
:^Ieanwhile the rural ditties were not mute, 
Tenmer'd to the oaten flute, . , , i,^^i 

RoS Satvrs danced, and Fauns with cloven heel 
From the glad sound would not be absent long, 
\nd old Damoetas loved to hear our song 
^ But O the heavy change, now thou art gone, 
Vnw thou art gone, and never must return ! 
Th^e SheplVer^l! thee the woods, and desert caves 
With wMthyme and the gadding vme o'ergrown, 
\nd all their echoes mourn. 
The willows, and the hazel copses green. 
Shall now no more be seen. 
Fanning their joyous leaves to thy soft la>s. 
■\s kilUng as the canker to the rose. 
O? unt-lorm to the weanling herds that graze 
Or frost to flow'rs. that their gay wardrobe wear, 
When first the white-thorn blows ; 
^n^h Lvcidas thv loss to shepherd s ear. 
^ Whe^e were've,'Nymphs, when the reniorseless deep 
Closed o'er the head of your loved Lycidas.'' 
For neither were ye playing on the steep 
Where vour old Bards, the famous Druids, he, 
Nor on 'the shaggy top of Mona hi^h _ 

Nor yet where Deva spreads her wisard stream . 

^^"ve beSr^f^what could that have done? 
What could the Muse herself that Orpheus bore. 
The I^Iuse herself for her enchanting son, 
Whom universal nature did lament, 
W et?by the rout that made the hideous roar. 
His -ory visage down the stream was sent. 
Sown tL swift Hebrus to the Lesbian shore ? 
Alas ! what boots it with incessant care 






146 



L YCIDAS. 




To tend the homely slighted shepherd's trade, 

And strictly meditate the thankless Muse,?^^ 

Were it not better done as others use, 

To sport with Amaryllis in the shade, 

Or with the tangles of Nesera's hair ? 

Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise 

(That last infirmity of noble mind) 

To scorn delights, and live laborious days ; 

But the fair guerdon when we hope to find. 

And think to burst out into sudden blaze, 

Comes the blind Fury with the abhorred shears, 

And slits the thin-spun life. "But not the praise," 

Phoebus replied, and touch'd my trembling ears; 

"Fame is no plant that grows on mortal soil, 

Nor in the glist'ring foil 

Set off to th' world, nor in broad rumour lies ; 

But lives and spreads aloft by those pure eyes, 

And perfect witness of all-judging Jove ; 

As he pronounces lastly on each deed. 

Of so much fame in heav'n expect thy meed." 

O fountain Arethuse, and thou honour' d flood. 

Smooth-sliding Mincius, crown 'd with vocal reeds, 

That strain I heard was of a higher mood : 

But now my oat proceeds, 

And listens to the herald of the sea 

That came in Neptune's plea ; 

He ask'd the waves, and ask'd the felon winds. 

What hard mishap hath doom'd this gentle swain ? 

And question'd every gust of rugged wings 

That blows from oflf each beaked promontory : 

They knew not of his story, 

And sage Hippotades their answer brings. 

That not a blast was from his dungeon stray'd. 

The air was calm, and on the level brine 

Sleek Panope with all her sisters play'd. 

It was that fatal and perfidious bark^ 

Built in th' eclipse, and rigg'd with curses dark, 

That sunk so low that sacred head of thine. 

Next Camus, reverend sire, went footing slow 
His mantle hairy, and his bonnet sedge. 
Inwrought with figures dim, and on the edge 
Like to that sanguine flow'r inscribed with woe. 
Ah ! who hath reft (quoth he) my dearest pledge } 
Last came, and last did go, 
The pilot of the Galilean lake. 
Two massy keys he bore of metals twain, 
(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain) 
He shook his mitred locks, and stern bespake. 
How well could I have spared for thee, young swain. 
Enow of such as for their bellies' sake 






m 





"7^ 



L YCIDAS. 



147 



^ 




Creep, and intrude, and climb into the fold ! 

Of other care they little reckoning make, 

Thau how to scramble at the shearer's feast, 

And shove away the worthy bidden guest ; 

Blind moiiths ! that scarce themselves know how to hold 

A sheep-hook, or have learn'd aught else the least 

That to the faithful herdman's art belongs ! 

What recks it them ? What need they ? They are sped ; 

And when they list, their lean and flashy songs 

Grate on their scrannel pipes of wretched straw ; 

The hungry sheep look up, and are not fed, 

But swoln with wind, and the rank mist they draw, 

Rot inwardly, and foul contagion spread ; 

Besides what the grim wolf with privy paw 

Daily devours apace, and nothing said ; 

But that two-handed engine at the dooF—^ 

Stands ready to smite once, and smite no more. 

Return, Alpheus, the dread voice is past,"" 
That shrunk thy streams ; return, Sicilian Muse,^ 
And call the vales, and bid them hither cast 
Their bells, and flow'rets of a thousand hues. 
Ye valleys low, where the mild whispers use 
Of shades, and wanton winds, and gushing brooks, 
On whose fresh lap the swart-star sparely looks : - 
Throw hither all your quaint enamell'd eyes. 
That on the green turf suck the honied showers, 
And purple all the ground with vernal flowers. 
Bring the rathe primrose that forsaken dies, 
The tufted crow-toe. and pale jessamine, 
The white pink, and the pansy freak'd with jet. 
The glowing violet, 

The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, 
With cowslips wan that hang the pensive head, 
And every flower that sad embroidery wears : 
Bid amaranthus all his beauty shed. 
And daffodillies fill their cups with tears. 
To strow the laureate hearse where Lycid lies. 
For so to interpose a little ease. 
Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise. 
Ay me ! Whilst thee the shores, and sounding seas 
Wash far away, where'er thy bones are hurl'd, 
Whether beyond the stormy Hebrides, 
Where thou perhaps under the whelming tide, 
Visit'st the bottom of the monstrous world ; 
Or whether thou to our moist vows denied, 
Sleep'st by the fable of Bellerus old. 
Where the great vision of the guarded mount 
Looks toward Namancos and Bayona's hold : 
Look homeward Angel now, and melt with ruth. 
And, O ye dolphins, waft the hapless youth 

■- »*- /r^i 



'^s^^^.-*^:^- 





■m 






148 



L YCIDAS. 



Weep no more, woful Shepherds, weep no more, 
For Lycidas your sorrow is not dead. 
Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor ; 
So sinks the day-star in the ocean bed, 
And 5'et anon repairs his drooping head, 
And tricks his beams, and with new spangled ore 
Flames in the forehead of the morning sky ; 
So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high. 
Thro' the dear might of Him that walk'd the waves. 
Where other groves, and other streams along, 
With nectar pure his oozy locks he laves. 
And hears the unexpressive nuptial song, 
In the blest kingdoms meek of joy and love. 
There entertain him all the saints above, 
In solemn troops, and sweet societies. 
That sing, and singing in their glory move, 
And wipe the tears for ever from his eyes. 
Now, Lycidas, the shepherds weep no more ; 
Henceforth thou art the genius of the shore, 
In thy large recompense, and shalt be good 
To all that wander in that perilous flood. 

Thus sang the uncouth swain to the oaks and rills, 

~While the still morn went out with sandals grey. 
He touch'd the tender stops of various quills, 
With eager thought warbling his Doric lay : 

^ And now the sun had stretch' d out all the hills. 
And now was dropp'd into the western bay ; 
At last he rose, and twitch'd his mantle blue : 
To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new. 




-i *""1 



v^AJsi Tagfc 







/nMscellaneous poems au& Uranslations. 



ON THE NEW FORCERS OF CONSCIENCE UNDER 
THE LONG PARLIAMENT. 

1647. 

Because you have thrown off your prelate lord, 
And with stiff vows renounced his liturgy, 
To seize the widow' d whore Plurality 
From them whose sin ye envied, not abhorr'd, 

Dare ve for this adjure the ci\nl sword 

To force our consciences that Christ set free, 
And ride us with a classic hierarchy 
Taught ye by mere A. S. and Rotherford ? 

Men whose life, learning, faith, and pure intent 
Would have been held in high esteem with Paul, 
Must now be named and printed heretics 

By shallow Edwards and Scotch what d'ye call : 
'But we do hope to find out all your tricks. 
Your plots and packing worse than those of Trent, 
That so the Parliament 

IVIay, with their wholesome and preventive shears, 

Clip your phylacteries, though bank your ears. 

And succour our just fears, 

When they shall read this clearly in your charge, 

New Presbyter is but Old Priest writ large. 



^ 



TRANSLATIONS 



THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE, Lib. I. 

What slender youth, bedew'd wath liquid odours. 
Courts thee on roses in some pleasant cave, 

Pvrrha ? For whom bind'st thou 

In wreaths thy golden hair, 

(149) 











MISCELLANEO US POEMS. 

Plain in thy neatness ? O how oft shall he 
On faith and changed Gods complain, and seas 

Rough with black winds, and storms 

Unwonted shall admire ! 
Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold, 
Who alwaj-s vacant, always amiable 

Hopes thee, of flattering gales 

Unmindful. Hapless they 
T' whom thou untried seem'st fair. Me, in my vow'd 
Picture, the sacred wall declares to have hung 

My dank and dropping weeds 

To the stern God of sea. 



^0^ 



FROM GEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH. 

Brutus thus addresses Diana in the countrj- of Leogecia : 

Goddess of shades, and huntress, who at vvill 
Walk'st on the rolling spheres, and through the deep ; 
On thy third reign, the earth, look now, and tell 
What land, what seat of rest, thou bidd'st me seek, 
What certain seat, where I may worship thee 
For aye, with temples vow'd, and virgin quires. 

To whom, sleeping before the altar, Diana answers in a vision the 

same night : 

Brutus, far to the west, in th' ocean wide. 
Beyond the realm of Gaul, a land their lies, 
Sea-girt it lies, where giants dwelt of old, 
Now void, it fits thy people : thither bend 
Thy course, there shalt thou find a lasting seat ; 
There to thy sons another Troy shall rise, 
And kings be born of thee, whose dreadful might 
Shall awe the world, and conquer nations bold. 



FROM DANTE. 

Ah, Constantine, of how nmch ill was cause, 
thy conversion, but those rich domains 
the first wealthy pope received of thee. 






%- 





■^m^^mm^ 




MISCELLANEOL'S POEMS. 



151 



FROM DANTE. 



Founded in chaste and humble poverty, 

'Gainst them that raised thee dost thou lift thy horn, 

Impudent whore, where hast thou placed thy hope ? 

In til}- adulterers, or thj^ ill-got wealth ? 

Another Constantine comes not in haste. 



FROM ARIOSTO. 

Then past he to a flow'ry mountain green, 
Which once smelt sweet, now stinks as odiousl}' 
This was the gift, if you the truth will have. 
That Constantine to good Sylvester gave. 



<^.-'.<^' 



FROM HORACE. 

Whom do we count a good man ? Whom but he 
Who keeps the laws and statutes of the senate, 
Who judges in great suits and controversies, 
Whose witness and opinion wins the cause? 
But his own house, and the whole neighbourhood, 
Sees his foul inside through his whited skin. 



1- 



FROM HORACE. 

All barbarous people and their princes too 

All purple tyrants honour 3'ou, 

The very wandering Scythians do. 

vSupport the pillar of the Roman state, 

Lest all men be involved in one man's fate, 
Continue us in wealth and state, 
Let wars and tumrdts ever cease. 



FROM HORACE. 

The power that did create can change the scene 
Of things, make mean of great, and great of mean ; 
The brightest glory can eclipse with might, 
And place the most obscure in dazzling light. 




^^^A-^^^ 




smmm^^^-:^ 



152 



MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 




FROM EURIPIDES. 

This is true liberty, when freeborn men 
Having to advise the public may speak free ; 
Which he who can, and will, deserves high praise: 
Who neither can nor will, may hold his peace, 
What can be juster in a state than this? 



FROM HORACE. 

Laughing, to teach the truth, 

What hinders ? As some teachers give to boys, 
Junkets and knacks, that they may learn apace. 






FROM HORACE. 



Joking decides great things. 

Stronger and better oft than earnest can. 



FROM SOPHOCLES. 

'TiS you that say it, not I. You do the deeds, 
And your ungodly deeds find me the words. 



FROM HOMEt 

GivAUCUS, in Lycia we're adored as gods, 

What makes 'twixt us and others so great odds? 



FROM SENECA 



There can be slain 



No sacrifice to God more acceptable 
Than an unjust and wicked king. 








X-, 



\-:^ 



Wmg. 




•11 ■ m 



fM 




p6almc\ 



PSAIvM I. Done into verse, 1653. 

Bi<ESS'D is the man who hath not walk'd astray 
In counsel of the wicked, and i' th' way 
Of sinners hath not stood, and in the seat 
Of scorners hath not sat. But in the great 
Jehovah's law is ever his delight, 
And in his law he studies day and night. 
He shall be as a tree which planted grows 
By watery streams, and in his season knows 
To yield his fruit, and his leaf shall not fall, 
And what he takes in hand shall prosper all. 
Not so the wicked, but as chaff which fann'd 
The wind drives, so the wicked shall not stand 
In judgment, or abide their trial then, 
Nor sinners in th' assembly of just men. 
For the Lord knows th' upright waj- of the just. 
And the way of bad men to ruin must. 



PSALM II. Done Aug. S, 1653. Terzette. 

Why do the Gentiles tumult, and the nations 

Muse a vain thing, th' kings of the earth upstand 
With pow'r, and princes in their congregations 

Lay deep their plots together through each land 
Against the Lord and his Messiah dear ? 
Let us break off, say they, by strength of hand 

Their bonds, and cast from us, no more to wear. 
Their twsted cords : He who in heav'n doth dwell 
Shall laugh ; the Lord shall scoff them, then severe 

Speak to them in his wrath, and in his fell 
And fierce ire trouble them ; but I, saitli He, 
Anointed have mj' King (though ye rebel) 

On Sion my holy hill. A firm decree 
I will declare ; the Lord to me hath said 
Thou art my Son, I have begotten thee 










FSALJ/S. 

This day ; ask of me, and the gra:it is made ; 
As thy possession I on thee bestow 
Tti' Heathen, and as thy conquest to be sway'd 

Earth's utmost bounds : then shalt thou bring full low 
With iron sceptre bruised, and them disperse 
Like to a potter's vessel shiver' d so. 

And now be wise at length, ye Kings averse. 
Be taught, ye Judges of the earth ; witli fear 
Jehovah serve, and let your joy converse 

With trembling ; kiss the Son lest he appear 
In anger, and ye perish in the way, 
If once his wrath take fire like fuel sere. 

Happy all those who have in them their stay. 



PSALM III. Aug. 9, 1653. 

WHEN HE FI.ED FROM ABS^VI^OM. 

LORX), how man}- are my foes ! 
How many those 
That in arms against me rise ! 
]\Iany are they 
That of my life distrustfully thus say 
No help for him in God there lies. 
But thou. Lord, art my shield, my glory, 
Thee through my story 
Th' exalter of my head I count : 
Aloud I cried 
Unto Jehovah, He fall soon replied 
And heard rue from His holy mount. 
I lay and slept, I waked again. 
For my sustain 
Was the Lord. Of manj- millions 
The populous rout 
I fear not, though encamping round about 
They pitch against me their pavilions. 
Rise, Lord, save me, my God, for thou 
Hast smote ere now 
On the cheek-bone all my foes. 
Of men abhorr'd 
Hast broke the teeth. This held was from the Lord 
Thy blessings on thy people flows. 



PSALM IV. Aug. 10, 165^ 

Answer me when I call, 
God of my righteousness, 
In straits and in distress 
Thou didst me disenthrall 






PSALMS. 



155 





And set at large ; now spare, 

Now pity me, and hear my earnest pray'r. 
Great ones, how long will ye 
My glory have in scorn, 
How long be thus forbom 
Still to love vanity. 
To love, to seek, to prize 

Things false and vain, and nothing else but lies? 
Yet know the Lord hath chose. 
Chose to himself apart, 
The good and meek of heart ; 
(For whom to chose he knows) 
Jehovah from on high 

Will hear my voice what time to Him I cry. 
Be awed, and do not sin, 
Speak to your hearts alone, 
Upon }■ our beds, each one, 
And be at peace within. 
Offer the offerings just 

Of righteousness, and in Jehovah trust. 
Many there be that say 
"Who yet will show us good?" 
Talking like this world's brood ; 
But, Lord, thus let me pray ; 
On us lift up the light, 

Lift up the favour of thy count' nance bright. 
Into my heart more j oy 
And gladness thou hast put, 
Than when a year of glut 
Their stores doth overcloy. 
And from their plenteous grounds 

With vast increase their corn and wine abounds. 
In peace at once will I 
Both lay me down and sleep. 
For thou alone dost keep 
Me safe where'er I lie ; 
As in a rocky cell 

Thou, Lord, alone in safety mak'st me dwell. 



v#ik 




PSALM V. Aug. 12, 1653. 

Jehovah, to my words give ear. 
My meditation weigh, 
The voice of my complaining hear 
My King and God ; for unto thee I pray. 
Jehovah, thou my early voice 
Shalt in the morning hear, 
I' th' morning I to thee with choice 
Will rank my pray'rs, and watch till thou appear. 




Ws.^i: 




156 



PSALMS. 



For thou art not a God that takes 

In wickedness delight, 
Evil with thee no bidding makes, 
Fools or mad men stand not within thy sight, 
All workers of iniquity 

Thou hat'st ; and them unblest 
Thou wilt destroy that speak a lie ; 
The bloody and guileful man God doth detest. 
But I will in thy mercies dear, 

Thy numerous mercies, go 
Into thy house ; I in thy fear 
Will towards thy holy temple worship low. 
Lord, lead me in thy righteousness 

Lead me because of those 
That do observe if I transgress. 
Set thy ways right before, where my step goes, 
For in his falt'ring mouth unstable 

No word is firm or sooth ; 
Their inside, troubles miserable; 
An open grave their throat, their tongue thej' smooth. 
God, find them guilty, let them fall 

By their own counsels quell'd ; 
Push them in their rebellions all 
Still on ; for against thee they have rebell'd. 
Then all who trust in thee shalt bring 

Their joy, while thou from blame 
Defend'st them, they shall ever sing 
And shall triumph in thee, who love thy name. 
For thou, Jehovah, wilt be found 

To bless the just man still. 
As with a shield thou wilt surround 
Him with thy lasting favour and good-will. 



PSALM VI. Aug. 13, 1653. 

Lord, in thine anger do not reprehend me 

Nor in thy hot displeasure me correct ; 

Pity me. Lord, for I am much deject. 

And very weak and faint ; heal and amend me : 

For all \rvy bones, that e'en with anguish ache. 

Are troubled, yea, my soul is troubled sore. 

And thou, O Lord, how long ? Turn, Lord 
My soul, O save me for thy goodness sake : 
For in death no remembrance is of thee ; 

Who in the grave can celebrate thv praise? 

Wearied I am with sighing out my days. 
Nightly my couch I make a kind of sea'; 
My bed I water with my tears ; mine eye 




restore 



^%^-: 



-^^-^^y/jj/i---- ^s^ 




w. 



./tk 





PSALMS. 



157 



Through grief consumes, is waxen old and dark 
I' the midst of all mine enemies that mark. 

Depart all ye that work iniquity, 

Depart from me, for the voice of my weeping 
The Lord hath heard, the Lord hath heard my prayer, 
My supplication with acceptance fair 

The Lord will own, and have me in his keeping. 

Mine enemies shall all be blank and dash'd 

With much confusion ; then grown red with shame, 
They shall return in haste the way they came, 

And in a moment shall be quite abash' d. 



PSALM VIL Aug. 14, 1653. 

UPON the; words of chush thebenjamite against him. 

Lord, my God, to thee I fly. 
Save me, and secure me under 
Thy protection while I cry, 
Lest as a lion (and no wonder) 
He haste to tear my soul asunder, 
Tearing, and no rescue nigh. 

Lord, my God, if I have thought 
Or done this, if wickedness 
Be in my hands, if I have wrought 
111 to him that meant me peace. 
Or to him have render'd less. 
And not freed my foe for nought ; 

Let the enemy pursue my soul 
And overtake it, let him tread 
My life down to the earth, and roll 
In the dust my glory dead. 
In the dust, and there outspread 
Lodge it with dishonour foul. 

Rise, Jehovah, in thine ire. 

Rouse thyself amidst the rage 

Of my foes that urge like fire. 

And wake for me, their fur}^ assuage ; 

Judgment here thou didst engage 

And command which I desire. 

So th' assemblies of each nation 
Will surround thee, seeking right, 
Thence to thy glorious habitation 
Return on high, and in their sight. 
Jehovah judge th most upright 
All people from the worlds foundation. 







-7^ 



^smi^^^j 



158 







•^<. 



PSALMS. 



Judge me, Lord, be judge in this 
According to my righteousness. 
And the innocence which is 
Upon me : cause at length to cease 
Of evil men the wickedness 
And their power that do amiss. 

But the just establish fast, 

Since thou art the just God that tries 

Hearts and reins. On God is cast, 

My defence, and in Him lies. 

In Him who both just and wise 

Saves th' upright of heart at last. 

God is a just judge and severe. 

And God is every day offended ; 

If the unjust will not forbear. 

His sword he whets, his bow hath bended 

Already, and for him intended 

The tools of death, that waits him near. 

(His arrows purposely made He 
For them that persecute. ) Behold 
He travels big with vanity. 
Trouble he hath conceiv'd of old 
As in a womb, and from that mould 
Hath at length brought forth a lie. 

He digg'd a pit, and delved it deep. 

And fell into the pit he made : 

His mischief that due course doth keep, 

Turns on his head, and his ill trade, 

Of violence will undelay'd 

Fall on his crown with ruin steep. 

Then will I Jehovah's praise 
According to his justice raise, 
And sing the Name and Deity 
Of Jehovah the Most High. 



V ^f4 




PSALM VIII. Aug. 14, 1653. 

O Jehovah our Lord, how wondrous great 

And glorious is thy name through all the earth ! 

So as above the Heavens thy praise to set 
Out of the tender mouths of latest birth. 

Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings thou 
Hast founded strength because of all thy foes, 

To stint the enemy, and slack th' avenger's brow, 
That bends his rage thy providence 1' oppose. 




>x^ 










PSALiUS. 159 

When I behold thy Heav'ns, thy fingers' art, 

The moon and stars which thou so bright hast set 

In the pure firmament, then saith my heart, 
O what is man that thou remember'st yet. 

And think'st upon him ; or of man begot. 

That him thou visit'st, and of him art found? 

Scarce to be less than gods, thou mad'st his lot, 

With honour and with state thou hast him crown'd. 

O'er the works of thy hand thou mad'st him lord, 

Thou hast put all under his lordly feet, 
All flocks, and herds, by thy commanding word, 

All beasts that in the field or forest meet, 

Fowl of the Heavens, and fish that through the wet 
Sea paths in shoals do slide, and know no dearth. 

O Jehovah our Lord, how wondrous great 

And glorious is thy name through all the earth ! 




April, 1648. J. M. 

Nine of the Psalms done into metre, wherein all, but what is in a 
different character, are the very words of the text, translated from 
the original. 

PSALM LXXX. 

Thou Shepherd that dost Israel keep 

Give ear in time of need. 
Who leadest like a flock of sheep 

Thy /(PZ'i?^/ Joseph's seed. 

That sitt'st between the Cherubs bright, 

Betzueen their wings outspread. 
Shine forth, and from thy cloud give light. 

And on our foes thy dread. 

In Ephraim's view and Benjamin's 

And in Manasse's sight. 
Awake thy strength, come, and be seen 

To save us by thy might. 

Turn us again, thy grace divine 

To us O God, vouchsafe ; 
Cause thou thy face on us to shine, 

And then we shall be safe. 

Lord God of Hosts, how long wilt thou. 

How long wilt thou declare 
Thy smoking wrath, and angry brow 

Against thy people's prayer! 




:* ^ 




1 60 



PSALMS. 






'=!i. 



Thou feed'st them with the bread of tears, 

Their bread with tears they eat, 
And mak'st them largely drink the tears 

Wherewith their cheeks are wet. 

A strife thou mak'st us and a prey 

To every neighbour foe, 
Among themselves they laugh, they play, 

And flouts at us they throw. 

Return us, and thy grace divine, 

O God of Hosts, vouchsafe. 
Cause thou thy face on us to shine, 

And then we shall be safe. 

A Vine from ^gypt thou hast brought 

Thy free love made it thine, 
And drov'st out nations, proud and haut. 

To plant this lovely vine. 

Thou did'st prepare for it a place, 

And root it deep and fast, 
That it began to grozu apace. 

And fili'd the land at last. 

With her greeti shade that cover'd all, 

The hills were over-spread, 
Her boughs as high as cedars tall 

Advanced their lofty head. 

Her branches on the zvestern side 

Down to the sea she sent, 
And upcvard to that river wide 

Her other branches went. 

Why hast thou laid her hedges low. 

And broken down her fence. 
That all may pluck her, as they go, 

With rudest violence? 

The tusked boar out of the wood 

Up turns it by the roots. 
Wild beasts there browse, and make their food 

Her grapes and tender shoots. 

Return now, God of Hosts, look down 

From Heav'n, thy seat divine. 
Behold us, but without a frown, 

And visit this thy Adne. 

Visit this vine, which thy right hand 

Hath set, and planted long. 
And the young branch, that for thyself 

Thou hast made firm and strong. 








m^'- 







\ 







PSALMS. 

But now it is consumed with fire, 
And cut 7vii/i axes down, 

They perish at thy dreadful ire, 
At thy rebuke and frown. 

Upon the man of thy right hand 
Let thy £'Ood hand be /afd, 

Upon the son of man, whom thou 
Strong for thyself hast made. 

So shall we not go back from thee 
To tuays of sin and shame. 

Quicken us thou, then gladly we 
Shall call upon thy Name. 

Return us, and thy grace divine, 
Lord God of Hosts, vouchsafe, 

Cause thou thy face on us to shine, 
And then we shall be safe. 





4i 




PSALM LXXXI. 

To God our strength sing loud, and clear. 

Sing loud to God our King. 
To Jacob's God, that all may hear, 

Loud acclamations ring. 

Prepare a hymn, prepare a song. 

The timbrel hither bring. 
The cheerful psaltry bring along. 

And harp with pleasant string. 

Blow, as is wont, in the new moon 

With trumpets' lofty sound, 
Th' appointed time, the day whereon 

Our solemn feast comes round. 

This was a statute ^zV« of old 

For Israel to obseii'e, 
A law of Jacob's God, to hold, 

From whence they might not swerve. 

This is a testimony ordain'd 

In Joseph, not to change. 
When as he pass'd through Egypt land, 

The tongue I heard was strange. 

From burden, and from slavish toil 

I set his shoulder free ; 
His hands from pots, and miry soil. 

Deliver' d were by me. 



4 



iJi 







Ijl^' 




162 PSALMS. 

When trouble did thee sore assail, 
Oti ine then didst thou call, 

And I to free thee did not fail, 
And led thee out of thrall. 

I answer' d thee in thunder deep 
With clouds enconipass'd round ; 

I tried thee at the water steep 
Of Meribah renowti'd. 

Hear, O my People, hearken zvell, 

I testify to thee, 
Thou ancient stock of Israel, 

If thou wilt list to me, 

Throughout the land of thy abode 

No alien God shall be, 
Nor shalt thou to a foreign God 

In honour bend thy knee. 

I am the Lord thy God which brought 

Thee out of ^gypt land ; 
Ask large enough, and I, besought, 

Will grant thy full demand. 

And yet my people would not hear, 

Nor hearken to my voice ; 
And Israel, zvhoni I loved so dear, 

Misliked me for his choice. 

Then did I leave them to their will, 
And to their wand'ring mind ; 

Their own conceits they follow'd still. 
Their own devices blind. 

O that my people would he wise, 
To serve uie all their days, 

And O that Israel would advise 
To walk my righteous ways. 

Then would I soon bring down their foes, 

That nozv so proudly rise. 
And turn my hand against all those 

That are their enemies. 

Who hate the Lord should the7i befaiti 

To bow to him and bend, 
But they, his people, should remain. 

Their time should have no end. 

And he would feed them/ro;;/ the shock 
With flour of finest wheat, 

And satisfy them from the rock 
With honey /cr their meat. 






P5 



PSALMS. 




■J 




PSALM LXXXII. 

God in the great assembly stands 

Of kings and lordly stales. 
Among the Gods, on both his hands 

He judges and debates. 

How long will ye per\'ert the right 
With judgment false and wrong, 
Favouring the wicked by your might. 
Who thence grow bold and strong ? 

Regard the weak and fatherless, 
Despatch the poor man's cause, 

And raise the man m deep distress 
B}' just and equal laws. 

Defend the poor and desolate, 

And rescue from the hands 
Of wicked men the low estate 

Of him that help demands. 

They know not, nor will understand, 

In darkness, they walk on. 
The earth's foundations all are moved, 

And out of order gone. 

I said that ye were gods, yea all 

The sons of God most high ; 
But ye shall die like men, and fall 

As other princes die. 
Rise, God, judge thou the earth /;/ might. 

This wicked earth redress, 
For thou art He who shall by right 

The nations all possess. 






PSALM LXXXIIL 

BE not thou silent noiv at length, 

O God, hold not thy peace, 
Sit thou not still, O God of strength, 

We cry, and do not cease. 
For lo, thy furious foes noza swell, 

And storm outrageously. 
And they that hate thee p?vud and fell 

Exalt their heads full high. 

Against thy people they contrive 
Their plots and counsels deep. 

Them to ensnare they chiefly strive. 
Whom thou dost hide and keep. 






-7^ 



PSALMS. 



Come let us cut them off, say they, 

Till they no nation be, 
That Israel's name for ever may 

Be lost in memory. 

For they consult with all their might, 

And all as one in mind 
Themselves against thee they unite, 

And in firm union bind. 

The tents of Edom, and the brood 

Of scornful Ishmael, 
Moab, with them of Hagar's blood. 

That in the desert dwells 

Gebal and Ammon there C07ispire, 

And hateful Amalek, 
The Philistines, and they of Tyre, 

Whose bounds the sea doth check. 

With them great Ashur also bands, 

And doth confirm the knot : 
All these have lent their armed hands 

To aid the sons of Lot. 

Do to them as to Midian bold, 

That wasted all the coast, 
To Sisera, and as is told 

Thou didst to Jabin's host, 

When at the brook of Kishon o/rf 

They were repulsed and slain. 
At En'dor quite cut off, and roll'd 
As dung upon the plain. 

As Zeb and Oreb evil sped. 

So let their princes speed, 
As Zeba, and Zalmunna bled. 

So let their princes bleed. 

For they amidst their pride have said. 

By right now shall we seize 
God's houses, and ivill now invade 

Their stately palaces. 

My God, oh make them as a wheel, 

No quiet let them find. 
Giddy and restless let them reel 

Like stubble from the wind. 

As 'cvhen an aged wood takes fire 

Which on a sudden strays, 
The greedy flame nms higher and higher 
Till all the mountains blaze, 



;»^ 






^ 









^W'1■ 



PSAL31S. 



165 





So with tliy whirlwind them pursue, 

And with thy tempest chase ; 
And till they yield thee honour due, 

Lord, fill with shame their face. 

Ashamed, and troubled let them be. 

Troubled and shamed for ever. 
Ever confounded, and so die 

With shame, and scape it never. 

Then shall they know that thou whose name 

Jehovah is alone. 
Art the Most High, and thou the same 

O'er all the earth art one. 



■**£« 



PSALM LXXXIV. 

How lovely are thy dwellings fair ! 

O Lord of Hosts, how dear 
The pleasant tabernacles are, 

Where thou dost dzvell so near! 

My soul doth long and almost die 

Thy courts, O Lord, to see ; 
My heart and flesh aloud do cry, 

O living God, for thee. 

There ev'n the sr^axro^ freed from wrong 

Hath found a house of rest, 
The swallow there, to lay her young 

Hath built her brooding nest, 

Ev'n by thy altars. Lord of Hosts, 

They find their safe abode, 
And home they fly from round the coasts, 

Toward thee, my King, my God. 

Happy, who in thy house reside, 

Where thee they ever praise, 
Happy, whose strength in thee doth bide, 

And in their hearts thy ways. 

<rhey pass through Baca's thirsty vale. 
That dry atid barren ground. 

As through a friiitful wat'r>' dale 
Where spnngs and show'rs abound. 





i66 



f SAL MS. 






They journey on from strengtl: to strength 

With joy and gladsome cheer. 
Till all before our God at length 

In Sion do appear. 

Lord God of Hosts, hear now my prayer, 

O Jacob's God, give ear, 
Thou God our shield, look on the face 

Of thy anointed dear. 

For one day in thy courts to be 

Is better, and -more blest. 
Than in the joys of vanity 

A thousand days at best. 

I in the temple of my God 

Had rather keep a door. 
Than dwell in tents, and rich abode, 

With sin for evermore. 

For God the Lord, both sun and shield, 

Gives grace and glory bright, 
No good from them shall be withheld 

Whose ways are just and right. 

Lord God of Hosts that reign' st on high, 

That man is truly blest, 
Who only on thee doth rely, 

And in thee only rest. 



PSALM LXXXV. 

Thy land to favour graciously 
Thou hast not. Lord, been slack ; 

Thou hast from hard captivity 
Returned Jacob back. 

Th' iniquity thou didst forgive 

That wrought thy people woe, 
And all their sin, that did thee grieve. 

Hast hid where none shall knoiv. 

Thine anger all thou hadst removed, 

And calmly didst return 
From thy fierce wrath which we had proved 

Far worse than fire to burn. 

God of our saving health and peace, 

Turn us, and us restore. 
Thine indignation cause to cease 

Toward us, and chide no more. 








*J,. 







PSALMS. 

Wilt thou be angry without end, 

For ever angry thus, 
Wilt thou thy frowning ire extend 

From age to age on us ? 

Wilt thou not turn, and hear our voice, 

And us again revive. 
That so thy people may rejoice 

By thee presers'ed alive? 

Cause us to see thy goodness, Lord, 

To us thy mercy show, 
Thy saving health to us afford, 

And life in us renezv. 

And now what God the Lord will speak, 

I will go straight and hear. 
For to his people he speaks peace. 

And to his saints /«// dear, 

To his dear saints he will speak peace, 

But let them never more 
Return to folly, but surcease 

To trespass as before. 

Surely to such as do Him fear 

Salvation is at hand. 
And glory shall ere long appear 

To dwell within our land. 

Mercy and Truth that long were miss'd 
^owjovfully are met, , • ,/. 

Sweet Peace and Righteousness have kiss d, 
And hand in hand are set. 

Truth from the earth, tike to aflo'iv'r. 

Shall bud and blossom then. 
And Justice from her heav'nly bow'r 

Look down on mortal men. 

The Lord will also then bestow 

Whatever thing is good, 
Our land shall forth in plenty throw 

Her fruits to be our food. 

Before Him righteousness shall go, 

His roval harbinger. 
Then will He come, and not be slow 

His footsteps cannot err. 



167 














i68 PSALMS. 

PSALM LXXXVI. 

Thy gracious ear, O Lord, incline, 

hear ine / thee pray, 

For I am poor, and almost pine 
With need, atid sad decay. 

Preserve my soul, for I have trod 
Thy ways, and love the just, 

Save thou thy servant, O my God, 
Who still in thee doth trust. 

Pity me. Lord, for daily thee 

1 call ; O make rejoice 

Thy servant's soul ; for. Lord, to thee 
I lift my soul and voice. 

For thou art good, thou. Lord, art prone 

To pardon, thou to all 
Art full of mercy, thou alone 

To them that on thee call. 

Unto my supplication. Lord, 

Give ear, and to the cry 
Of my incessant pray'rs afford 

Thy hearing graciously. 

I in the day of my distress 

Will call on thee/cr aid ; 
For thou \vilt^r«;// me^free access. 

And answer zvhat I pray' d. 

Like thee among the Gods is none, 

Lord, nor any works 

Of all that other Gods have done 
Like to thy glorious works. 

The nations all whom thou hast made 
Shall come, and all shall frame 

To bow them low before thee, Lord, 
And glorify thy name. 

For great thou art, and wonders great 
By thy strong hand are done, 

Thou /;/ thv everla<:ting seat 
Remainest God alone 

Teach me, O Lord, thy way most right, 

1 m thv truth will bide, 
To fear tli\ natne nn heart unite. 

So shall it near slide. 









^% 







PSALMS. 

Thee will I praise, O Lord my God, 

Thee honour and adore 
With my whole heart, and blaze abroad 

Thy name for evermore. 

For great thy mercj' is toward me, 
And thou hast freed my soul, 

Ev'n from the lowest hell set free, 
From deepest darkness foul. 

O God, the proud against me rise, 

And violent men are met 
To seek my life, and in their eyes 

No fear of thee have set. 

But thou, Lord, art the God most mild, 
Readiest thy grace to show, 

Slow to be angry, and art styled 
Most merciful, most true. 

O turn to me thy face at length. 

And me have mercy on, 
Unto thy servant give thy strength, 

And save thy handmaid's son. 

Some sign of good to me afford, 

And let my foes then see, 
And be ashamed, because thou, Lord, 

Dost help and comfort me. 



169 



/X-'^. 

/'-/ 







PSALM LXXXVII. 

Among the holy mountains high 

Is his foundation fast, 
There seated hi his sanctuary, 

His temple there is placed. 

Sion'sya/r gates the Lord loves more 
Than all the dwellings ya/r 

Of Jacob's land, though there be store, 
And all within his care. 

City of God, most glorious things 

Of thee abroad are spoke ; 
I mention ^gypt, ivhere proud kings 

Did our forefathers yoke. 

I mention Babel to my friends, 

Philistia///// of scorn, 
And Tyre with Ethiop's utmost ends, 

Lo this man there \n as boi n : 





I70 



PSALMS. 



\' 



But tivice that praise shall in our ear. 

Be said of Sion last, 
This and this man was born in her ; 

High God shall fix her fast. 

The Lord shall write it in a scroll 

That ne'er shall be out-worn, 
When He the nations doth enroll, 

That this man there was born. 

Both they who sing, and they who dance, 

With sacred songs are there. 
In theey>r5A brooks, and soft streams glance, 

And all my fountains clear. 



If 



'd^ 




PSALM LXXXVIII. 

Lord God, that dost me save and keep, 

All day to thee I cry ; 
And all night long before thee iveep. 

Before thee prostrate lie. 

Into thy presence let my pray'r 

With sighs devout ascend, 
And to my cries, that ceaseless are. 

Thine ear with favour bend. 

For cloy'd with woes and trouble store 
Surcharged my soul doth lie, 

My life at death'' s uncheerftil door 
Unto the grave draws nigh. 

Reckon 'd I am with them that pass 

Down to the dismal pit, 
I am a man, but weak, alas ! 

And for that name unfit. 

From life discharged and parted quite 

Among the dead to sleep. 
And like the slain z« bloody fight. 

That in the grave lie deep. 

Whom thou rememberest no more. 

Dost never more regard. 
Them from thy hand deliver'd o'er 

Death's hideous house hath barr'd. 





Z^ 









•^^ 




FSALMS. 

Thou in the lowest pit profound 

Hast set me all forlorn, 
WTiere thickest darkness hovers round. 

In horrid deeps to mourn. 

Thy wrath, from ivhich no shelter saves. 

Full sore "doth press on me ; 
Thou break'st upon me all thy waves, 

And all thy waves break me. 

Thou dost my friends from me estrange, 

And mak'st me odious. 
Me to them odious, for they change, 

And I here pent up thus. 

Through sorrow and affliction great, 
Mine eye grows dim and dead. 

Lord, all the day I thee intreat, 
My hands to thee I spread. 

Wilt thou do wonders on the dead ? 

Shall the deceas'ed arise, 
And praise thee/ro/// their loathsome bed 
With pale atid hollow eyes ? 

Shall they thy lo^-ing kindness tell 
On whom the grave hath hold ? 

Or they who in perdition dwell, 
Thy faithfulness unfold? 

In darkness can thy mighty hand 
Or wondrous acts be known ? 

Thv justice in the gloomy land 
Of dark oblivion ? 

But I to thee, O Lord, do cry, 

Ere yet my life be spent. 
And up to thee my pray'r doth hie. 

Each morn, and thee prevent. 

Why wilt thou, Lord, my soul forsake, 

And hide thv face from me. 
That am already bruised, and shake 

With terror sent from thee ? 

Bruised and afflicted, and so low 

As readv to expire, 
WTiile I thy terrors undergo 

Astonish'd with thine ire. 



171 






172 



PSALMS. 



':\\\} 






Thy fierce wrath over me doth flow, 
Thy threat' nings cut me through : 

All day they round about me go, 
Like waves they me pursue. 

Lover aud friend thou hast removed, 

And sever' d from me far : 
Theyyf)' me 7iozu whom I have loved, 

And as in darkness are. 




?% 



A PARAPHRASE ON PSALM CXIV. 

When the blest seed of Terah's faithful son, 

After long toil their liberty had won, 

And past from Pharian fields to Canaan land. 

Led by the strength of the Almighty's hand, 

Jehovah's wonders were in Israel shown, 

His praise and glory was in Israel known . 

That saw the troubled sea, and shivering fled, 

And sought to hide his froth -becurled head 

Low in the earth ; Jordan's clear streams recoil, 

As a faint host that had received the foil. 

The high, huge-bellied mountains skip like rams 

Amongst their ewes, the little hills like lambs. 

Why fled the ocean ? And why skipt the mountains ? 

Why turned Jordan toward his crystal fountains? 

Shake, Earth, and at the presence be aghast 

Of him that ever was, and aye shall last. 

That glassy floods from rugged rocks can crush, 

And make soft rills from fiery flint-stones gush. 



PSALM CXXXVL 

Let us with a gladsome mind 
Praise the Lord, for he is kind. 

For his mercies aye endure, 

Ever faithful, ever sure. 

Let lis blaze his name abroad, 
I-'or of Gods he is the U od : 
For his, etc. 

O let us his praises tell. 
Who doth the wrathful tyrants quell : 
For his, etc. 








„},\J 






m^ '^ 



^ 



■%, "I: 







PSALMS. 

Who with his miracles doth make 
Amazed heav'n and earth to shake : 
For his, etc. 

Who by his wisdom did create ^ 

The painted heavens so full of state . 
For his, etc. 

Who did the solid earth ordain 
To rise above the watery plain : 
For his, etc. 

Who by his all-commanding mjglit _ 
Did fill the new-made world with light . 
For his, etc. 

And cause the golden-tressed sun 
All the day long his course to run : 
For his, etc. 

The horned moon to shine by night, 
Amongst her spangled sisters bright : 
For his, etc. 

He with his thunder-clasping hand 
Smote the first-born of ^gypt land : 
For his, etc. 

And in despite of Pharaoh fell, 
He brought from thence his Israel : 
For his, etc. 

The ruddy waves he cleft in twain, 
Of the Erythrsean main : 
For his, etc. 

The floods stood still like walls of glass. 
While the Hebrew bands did pass : 
For his, etc. 

But full soon thev did devour 
The tawny king with all his power : 
For his, etc. 

His chosen people he did bless 
In the wasteful wilderness : 
For his, etc. 

In bloody battle he brought down 
Kings of prowess and renown : 
For his, etc. 



173 











/ I ,.li 



"^Sfc-. 



k 



w 





PSALMS. 



He foil'd bold Seon and his host, 
That ruled the Amorrean coast : 
For his, etc. 

And large-limb'd Og he did subdue, 
With all his over-hardy crew : 
For his, etc. 

And to his servant Israel 
He gave their land therein to dwell : 
For his, etc. 

He hath with a piteous eye 
Beheid us in our misery : 
For his, etc. 

And freed us from the slavery 
Of the invading enemy : 
For his, etc. 

All living creatures he doth feed. 
And with full hand supplies their need ; 
For his, etc. 

Let us therefore warble forth 
His mighty majesty and worth : 
For his, etc 

That his mansion hath on high 
Above the reach of mortal eye : 

For his mercies aye endure. 

Ever faithful, ever sure. 

















Jobannis /HMltoixi XoiiMnensis poemata. 




Quorum pleraque intra annum setatis vigesimum conscripsit. 

H^c qu^ sequuntur de Autcre testimonia, tametsi ipse 
intelligebat non tarn de se quam supra se esse dicta, eo 
quod prseclaro ingenio viri, nee nou amici ita fere solent 
laudare, ut omnia suis potius virtutibus, quam ventati, 
congruentia nimis cupide affingant, noluit tamen horum 
egregiam in se voluntatem non esse notani ; cum alu 
prsesertim ut id faceret magnopere suaderent. Durn enim 
nimiffi laudis invidiam totis ab se viribus amolitur, sibique 
quod plus sequo est non attributum esse niavult, judicmm 
interim hominum cordatorum atque illustrium qum sum- 
mo sibi honori ducat, negare ; nou potest. 

Joannes Baptista Mansus, Marchio Villensis, Neapolitanus, ad 
Joannem Miltonium Anglum. 

UT mens, forma, decor, facies, mos, si pietas sic. 
Non Anglus, verum hercle Angelus ipse fores. 

Ad Toannem Miltonem Anglum triplici poeseos laurea coronandum, 

Graca uimirum Latina, atque Hetrusca, Epigramma 

Joannis Salsilli Romani. 

Cede Meles, cedat depressa Mincius urna ; 

Sebetus Tassum desinat usque loqui ; 
At Thamesis victor cunctis ferat altior undas 

Nam per te, Milto, par tribus unus erit. 

Ad Joannem Miltonum. 

Gr^cia Mseonidem, jactet sibi Roma Maronem, 
Anglia Miltonum jactat utrique parem. 

Selvaggi. 



m. 












Al Signer Gio. Miltoni Nobile Inglese, 

ODE. 

Ergimi air Etra 6 Clio 

Perche di stelle intrecciero corona 

Non piu del Biondo Dio 

La Fronde etema in Pindo, e in Elicona, 

Diensi a merto maggior, maggiori i fregi, 

A' celeste virtu celesti pregi. 

Non puo del tempo edace 
Rimaner preda, eterno alto valore 
Non puo 1' oblio rapace 
Furar dalle memorie eccelso onore, 
Su 1' arco di mia cetra un dardo forte 
Virtu m' adatti, e feriro la morte. 

Del Ocean profondo 

Cinta dagli ampi gorghi Anglia resiede 

Separata dal mondo, 

Pero che il suo valor 1' umano eccede ; 

Questa feconda sa produrre Eroi, 

Ch' hanno a ragion del sovruman tra uoi. 

Alia virtu sbandita 

Danno ne i petti lor fido ricetto, 

Quella gli e sol gradita, 

Perche in lei san trovar gioia, e diletto ; 

Ridillo tu, Giovanni, e mostra in tanto 

Con tua vera virtu, vero il mio Canto. 

Lungi dal Patrio lido 

Spinse Zeusi 1' industre ardente brama; 

Ch' udio d' Helena il grido 

Con aurea tromba rimbombar la fatna, 

E per poterla effigiare al paro 

Dalle piii belle Idee trasse il piu raro. 

Cosi Tape ingegnosa 

Trae con industria il suo liquor pregiato 

Dal giglio e dalla rosa, 

E quanti vaghi fiori oranno il prato ; 

Formano un dolce suon diverse chorde, 

Fan varie voci melodia Concorde. 

Di bella gloria amante 

Milton dal Ciel natio per varie parti 

Le peregrine piante 

Volgesti a ricercar scienze, ed arti ; 

Del Gallo regnator vedasti i Regni, 

E dell' Italia ancor gl' Eroi piu degnii. 




ODE. 



177 




Fabro quasi divano 

Sol virtu riutracciando il tuo pensiero 

Vide in ogni confino 

Chi di nobil valor calca il sentiero ; 

L' ottinio dal uiiglior dopo scegliea 

Per fabbricar d' ogni virtu 1' idea. 

Quanti nacquero in Flora 

in lei del parlar Tosco appreser 1' arte, 
La cui memoria onora 

II niondo fatta eterna in dotte carte, 
Volesti ricercar per tuo tesoro, 
E parlasti con lor nell' opre loro. 

Nell' altera Eaballe 

Per te il parlar confuse Giove in vano, 

Che per varie favelle 

Di se stessa trofeo cadde su'l piano : 

Ch' Ode oltr' all' Anglia il suo pin degno Idioma 

Spagna, Francia, Toscana, e Grecia, e Roma. 

1 piu profondi arcani 

Ch' occulta la natura e in cielo e in terra 
Ch' a Ingegni sovrumani 
Troppo avaro tal'hor gli chiude, e serra, 
Chiaramente conosci, e giungi al fine 
Delia moral virtude al gran confine. 

Non batta il Tempo 1' ale, 

Fermisi immoto, e in un fertnin si gl' anni, 

Che di \nrtu immortale 

Scorron di troppo ingiuniasi a i danni ; 

Che s' opre degue di Poema e storia 

Furon gia Thai presenti alia memoria. 

Dammi tua dolce Cetra 

Se vuoi ch' io dica del tuo dolce canto, 

Ch' inalzandoti all' Etra 

Di farti huomo celeste ottiene il vanto, 

II Tamigi il dira che gl' e concesso 

Per te suo cigno pareggiar Permesso. 

Io die in riva del Amo 

Tento spiegar tuo merto alto, e preclaro, 

So che fatico indamo, 

E ad ammirar, non a lodarlo imparo ; 

Freno dunque la lingua, e ascolto il core 

Che ti prende a lodar con Io stupore. 

Del sig. Antonio Francini, 

Gentilhuomo Fiorentino. 










3oanni flDiltoni Xonbincnel 



Juveui patria, virtiitibus eximio, 
ViRO qui multa peregrinatione, studio cuncta orbis terra- 
rum loca perspexit, ut noviis Ulysses omnia ubique ab 
omnibus apprehenderet : 

Polyglotto, in cujus ore linguae jam deperditae sic revi- 
viscuut, ut idiomata omnia sint in ejus laudibus infacunda ; 
et jure ea percallet ut admirationes et plausus populorum 
ab propria sapientia excitatos intelligat : 

Illi, cujus animi dotes corporisque sensus ad admira- 
tionem commovent, et per ipsam motum cuique aufer- 
unt ; cujus opera ad plausus hortantur, sed veuustate vocem 
laudatoribus adimunt : 

Cui in memoria totus orbis ; in intellectu sapientia ; in 
voluntate ardor gloriae ; in ore eloquentio ; liarmonicos 
coelestium sphserarum sonitus astrononiia duce audienti ; 
characteres mirabilium nature per quos Dei magnitudo 
describitur, magistra philosophia legenti ; antiquitatum 
latebras, vetustatis excidia, eruditionis ambages, comite 
assidua autorum lectione, 

Kxquirenti, restauranti, percurrenti : 
At cur nitor in arduum ? 

Illi in cujus virtutibus evulgandis ora Famae non suffici- 
aut, nee hominum stupor in laudandis satis est, reverentiae 
et amoris ergo hoc ejus meritis debituni admirationis tri- 
butum offert CaroIvUS Datus, Patricius Florentinus, 

Tanto bomini servus, tautce virtutis amator. 




(17S) 







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lElecjiarum %\bci\ 



iW^' y I 



l.:.U 




ELEG. I. AD CAROLUM DEODATUM. 

1627. 

Tandem, chare, tus mihi perveuere tabellje, 

Pertultit et voces nuncia charta tuas ; 
Pertulit, occidua Devse Cestrensis ab ora 

Vergivium prono qua petit amne salum. 
Multum, crede, juvat terras aluisse remotas 

Pectus anians nostri, tanique fidele caput, 
Quodque mihi lepidutn telkis longinqua sodaleni 

Debet, at uude brevi reddere jussa velit. 
Me tenet urbs reflua quam Thamesis alluit unda, 

Meque, nee invituni, patria dulcis Jiabet 
Jam nee arundiferum mihi cura revisere Camum, 

Nee dudum vetiti me laris angit amor : 
Nuda nee arva placent, umbrasque negantia moUes ; 

Quam male Phcebicolis convenit ille locus ! 
Nee duri libet usque minas perferre Magistri, 

Caeteraque ingenio non subeunda meo. 
Si sit hoc exilium patrios adiisse penates, 

Et vacuum curis otia grata sequi, 
Non ego vel profugi nomen sortemve recuse 

Laetus et exil'ii conditione fruor. 
O utinam vates nunquam graviora tuliss 

Ille Tomitano flebilis exul agro , 
Non tunc lonio quicquam cessisset Homero, 

Neve foret victo laus tibi prima, Maro. 
Tempora nam licet hie placidis dare libera Musis, 

Et totum rapiunt me, mea vita, libri. 
Excipit hinc fessum sinuosi pompa theatri, 

Et vocat ad plausus garrula scena suos. 
Seu catus auditur senior, sen prodigus litres, 

Seu procus, aut posita casside miles adest, 
Sive decennali foecundns lite patronus 

Detonat inculto barbara verba foro ; 

{179) 




te- 



:• t^ 




■7^ 



1 80 



EL EG FA Ri'M L IBER. 




\ 1 II 



IK 




Saepe vafer gnato succurit servus ainauti, 

Et nasimi rigidi fallit ubique patris ; 
Saepe iiovos illic virgo tnirata calores 

Quid sit amor nescit, dum quoque nescit, atnat. 
vSive cruentatum furiosa Tragoedia sceptrutn 

Quassat, et efFiisis crinibus ora rotat ; 
Et dolet, et specto, jiivat et spectasse dolendo, 

Interdum et lacrymis dulcis aniator inest ; 
Seu puer iufelix indelibata reliquit 

Gaudia, et abrupto flendus amore cadit ; 
Seu ferus e tenebris iterat Styga criniiiiis ultor, 

Conscia funereo pectora torre movens : 
Seu tnoeret Pelopseia doinus, seu nobilis Hi, 

Aut luit incestos aula Creontis avos. 
Sed neque sub tecto semper 11 ec in urbe latemus, 

Irrita nee nobis tempora veris eunt. 
Nos quoque lucus habet vicina consitus ulmo, 

Atque subvirbani nobilis umbra loci. 
Saepius hie, blaudas spirantia sidera flammas 

Virgineos \ddeas prceteriisse choros. 
Ah quoties dignae stupui miraeula formte, 

Quae possit senium vel reparare Jovis ! 
Ah quoties vidi superantia lumina gemmas, 

Atque faees, quotquot volvit uterque polus ; 
Collaque bis vivi Pelopis quae braehia vincant 

Quaeque flait pure neetare tincta via ; 
Et decus eximium frontis, tremulosque capillos, 

Aurea quae fallax retia tendit Amor ; 
Pellacesque geuas, ad quas hvacinthiiia sordet 

Purpura, et ipse tui floris, Adoni, rubor ! 
Cedite laudata; toties Heriodes olim, 

Et quaeeunque vagum eepit amica Jovem : 
Cedite Aehaemenije turrita fronte puelke, 

Et quot Susa colunt, Memnoniamque Ninon ; 
Vos etiam Dana; fasces submittite Nj-mphae, 

Et vos Iliaae, Romuleieque nurus : 
Nee Pompeianas Tarpeia ^lusa columnas 

Jactet, et Ausoniis plena theatra stolis. 
Gloria Virginibus debetur prima Britannis, 

Extera sat tibi sit foemina posse sequi. 
Tuque urbs Dardaniis, Londinum, structa eolonis, 

Turrigerum late conspieienda caput, 
Tu nimium felix intra tua moeuia claudis 

Quiequid formosi pendulus orbis habet. 
Non tibi tot coelo scientillant astra sereno, 

Endymioneae turba ministra deae, 
Quot tibi, eonspicuje formaque auroque, puellae 

Per medias radiant turba videnda vias. 
Creditur hue geminis venisse invecta columbis 

Alma pharetrigero milite cincta Venus, 





^ 




ELEGIARUM LIBER. i8i 



Huic Cnidon, et riguas Simoentis flumine valles, 

Huic Paplion, et roseam posthabitura Cypron. 
Ast ego, dum pueri sink indulgentia cseci, 

Moenia quani subito linquere fausta paro ; 
Et vitare procul malefidae infamia Circes 

Atria, divini Molyos usus ope. 
Stat quoque juncosas Camia remeare paludes, 

Atque iterum raucse murmur adire Schola; 
Interea fidi parvum cape munus amici, 

Paucaque in altemos verba coacta modes. 



/I 



;) EIvEG. II. Anno ^tatis 17. 

:3 {Written durhig Milton's first stay at Cambridge.) 

''■\ IN OBITUM PR.IvCONIS ACADEMICI CANTABRIGIENSIS. fM 

1626. 

TE qui conspicuus baculo fulgente solebas 

Palladium toties ore ciere gregem. 
Ultima prjEconum praeconem te quoque saeva ||' 

Mors rapit, officio nee favet ipsa suo ; _ J| 

,.. I Candidiora licet fuerint tibi tempora plumis e/* 

Sub quibus accipimus delituisse Jovem. 1 

# O dignus tamen Hsemonio juvenescere succo, 1 

Di"-nus in ^sonios vivere posse dies, 
Dignus quem Stygiis medica revocaret ab undis ^ i. 

/. > Arte Coronides, ssepe rogante dea : y ^/l 

' .»'■ Tusijussuserasaciesacciretogatas, C ■^\ 

,j ^ Et celer a Phoebo nuntius ire tuo, 

■! Talis in Iliaca stabat Cyllenius aula 

Alipes, setherea missus ab arce Patris : _ "i^. 

Talis et Eurybates ante ora furentis AchiUei Ij^i 

Rettulit Atridaejussaseveraducis. _ 'S/ir 

Magna sepulchrorum regina, satelles Averni -'Mmk 

S'ajva nimis Musis, Palladi saeva nnnis, 
Quin illos rapias qui pondus inutile terrae, 
Turba quidem est telis ista petenda tuis. 
Vestibus hunc igitur pullis, Academia, luge, 

Et madeant lachrymis nigra feretra tuis. 
Fundat et ipsa modos querebunda Elegeia tnstes 
Personet et totis nsenia moesta scholis. ^^ „,, 



^ 
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Tllif.:.. .. 
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:ir 







182 ELEGIARUM LIBER. 

ELEG. III. Anno ^tatis 17. 

IN OBITUM PR^SUtlS WINTONIENSIS. 
1626. 

McESTUS eram, et tacitus nullo comitante sedebam, 

Haerebantque animo tristia plura meo, 
Protinus en subiit funestai cladis imago, 

Fecit in Angliaco quam Ijbitina solo ; 
Dum procerum ingressa est splendentes marmore turres, 

Dira sepulchrali mors metuenda face ; 
Pulsavitque auro gravidos et jaspide muros, 

Nee metuit satrapum sternere falce greges. 
Tunc memini clarique ducis, fratrisque verendi 

Intempestivis ossa cremata rogis : 
Et memini Heroum quos vidit ad sethera raptos. 

Flevit et amissos Belgia tota duces : 
At te prtecipue luxi, dignissime Prtesul, 

Wintonifeque dim gloria magna tus ; 
Delicui fletu, et tristi sic ore querebar : 

" Mors fera, Tartareo diva secunda Jovi, 
Nonne satis quod sylva tuas persentiat iras, 

Et quod in herbosos jus tibi detur agros, 
Quodque afflata tuo marcescant lilia tabo, 

Et crocus, et pulchrae Cypridi sacra rosa ; 
Nee sinis, ut semper fluvio contermina quercus 

Miretur lapsus prastereuntis aquse ? 
Et tibi succumbit, liquido quae plurima coelo 

Eveliitur pennis, quamlibet augur a\'is, 
Et quse mille nigris errant animalia sylvis, 

Et quot alunt mutum Proteos antra pecus. 
Invida, tanta tibi cum sit concessa potestas, 

Quid juvat humana tingere caede manus ? 
Nobileque in pectus certas acuisse sagittas, 

Semideamque animam sede fugasse sup.?|' 
Talia dum lacrymans alto sub pectore volvo, 

Roscidus occiduis Hesperus exit aquis, 
Et Tartessiaco submerserat aequore currum 

Phcebus, ab E06 littore mensus iter : 
Nee mora, membra cavo posui refovenda cubili, 

Condiderant oculos noxque soporque meos ; 
Cum mihi visus eram lato spatiarier agro : 

Heu ! nequit ingeniuui visa referre meum. 
Illic punicea radiabant omnia luce, 

Ut matutino cum juga sole rubent. 
Ac veluti cum pandit opes Thaumantia -oroles, 

Vestitu nituit multicolore solum : 
Non dea tarn variis ornavit floribus liortos 

Alcinoi, Zephyro Chloris aniata levi. 





ELEGIARUM LIBER. 



183 



^vV ^. 



,:/ ^ 



Flumina vernantes lambunt argentea campos, 

Ditior Hesperio flavet arena fago. 
Serpit odoriferas per opes levis aura Favoni, 

Aura sub innumeris humida nata rosis, 
Talis in extremis terrae Gangetidis oris 

Luciferi regis fingitur esse domus. 
Ipse racemiferis dum densas vitibus umbras, 

Et pellucentes miror ubiqvie locos, 
Ecce mihi subito Prssul Wintonms astat, 

Sidereum nitido fulsit in ore jubar; 
Vestis ad auratos defluxit Candida talcs, 

Infula divinum cinxerat alba caput. 
Dumque senex tali incedit venerandus amictu, 

Intremuit Iseto florea terra sono. 
A^mina gemmatis plauduut coelestia pennis, 

"Pura triumphali personat sethra tuba. 
Ouisque novum amplexu comitem cantuque salutat, 

Hosque aliquis placido misit ab ore sonos : 
" Mate veni, et patrii felix cape gaudia regm, 

Semper abhinc duro, nate, labore vaca. 

Dixit, et aligerffi tetigerunt nablia turrnse ; 

At mihi cum tenebris aurea pulsa quies. 

Flebam turbatos Cepbaleia pellice somnos : 

Talia contingaut somnia SKpe mihi. 



ELEG. IV. Anno ^tatis 18. 

i> d Thomam Junium prfficeptorem suum, apud mercatores Anglicos 
HamburgEe agentes, Pastoris munere fungentem. 

CURRE per immensum subito, mea litera, pontum : 

I pete Teutonicos Iceve per sequor agros : 
Segnes rumpe moras, et nil, precor, obstet eunti, 

Et festinantis nil remoretur iter. 
Ipse ego Sicanio frsenantem carcere ventos 

F;olon, et virides soillicitabo Deos, 
Cseruleamque suis comitatam Donda Nymphis, 

Ut tibi dent placidam per sua regna viam. 
Attn sipoteris, celeres tibi sume jugales, 

Vecta quiVjus Colchis fugit ab ore vin ; 
Aut quels Triptolemus Scythicas devenit m oras, 

Gratas Eleusina missus ab urbe puer. 
Atque ubi Germanas flavere videbis arenas, 

Ditis ad Hamburgse moenia flecte gradum, 
Dicitur occiso quae ducere nomen ab Hama, 

Cimbrica quem fertur clava dedisse neci : 
Vivit ibi antiquse clarus pietatis honore 

Prcesul, Christicolas pascere doctus oves ; 




u 





184 



EL EG I A RUM LIBER. 






lUe quidem est animce plusquam pars altera nostrae, 

Dimidia vitae vivere cogor ego. 
Hei mihi quot pelagi, quot montes interjecti, 

Me faciunt alia parte carere mei ! 
Cliarior ille niilii, quam tu, doctissime Graium, 

Cliniadi, pronepos qui Telamonis erat ; 
Ouamque Stagyrites generoso magnus ali:mno, 

Queni peperit L/ybico Chaonis alma Jovi. 
Qualis Amyntorides, qualis Philyreius lieros 

Myrniidonum regi, talis et ille mihi. 
Primus ego Aonios illo, prajeunte, recessus 

Lustrabam, et bifidi sacra vireta jugi; 
Pieriosque hausi latices ; Clioque favente, 

Castalio sparsi laeta ter ora mero. 
Flammeus at signum ter viderat arietis ^Ihon, 

Induxitque auro lanea terga novo ; 
Bisque novo terram sparsisti, Chlori, senilem 

Gramine, bisque tuas abstulit Auster opes : 
Necdum ejus licuit mihi lumina pascere vultu, 

Aut linguae dulces aure bibisse sonos. 
Vade igitur, cursuque Eurum praeverte sonorum, 

Quam sit opus monitis, res docet ipsa, vides. 
Invenies dulci cum conjuge forte sedemtem, 

Mulcentem gremio pignora chara suo. 
Forsitan aut veteruni praelarga volumina patrum 

Versantem, aut veri biblia sacra Dei : 
Ccelestive animas saturantem rore tenellas ; 

Grande salutiferae religionis opus. 
Utque solet, multam sit dicere cura salutem, 

Dicere quam decuit si modo adesset, heruni. 
Haec quoque, paulum oculos in humum defixa modestos. 

"Veiba verecuudo sis memor ore loqui : 
Haic tibi, si teneris vacat inter praelia Musis, 

Mittit ab Angliaco littore fida manus. 
Accipe sinceram, quamvis sit sera, salutem ; 

Fiat et hoc ipso gratior ilia tibi. 
Sera quidem, sed vera fuit, quam casta recepit 

Icaris a lento Penelopeia viro. 
Ast ego quid volui manifestum toUere crimen 

Ipse quod ex omni parte levare nequit ? 
Arguitur tardus merito, noxamque fatetur, 

Et pudet officium deseruisse suum. 
Tu modo da veniam fasso, veniamque roganti, 

Critnina diminui, quae patuere, solent. 
Non ferus in pavidos rictus diducit hiantes, 

Vulnifico pronos nee rapit ungue leo. 
Saepe sarissiferi crudelia pectora Thracis 

Supplicis ad moestas delicuere preces : 
Extensaeque manus avertunt fulminis ictus, 

Placat et iratos hostia par\'a Deos. 



^^S;^" ^"^^^ 





ELEGIARUM LIBER. 



185 




6 






# 



Jamque diu scripsissa tlbi fuit impetus illi, 

Neve moras ultra ducere passus Amor ; 
Nam vaga Fama refert, heu nuutia vera malorum 

In tibi finitimis bella tumere locis, 
Teque tuamque urbem truculento milite ciugi, 

Et jam Saxouicos arma parasse duces. 
Te circum late campos populatur Enyo, 

Et sata cariie virum jam cruor arva rigat ; 
Germanisque suum concessit Thracia Martem, 

lUuc Odrysios Mars pater egit equos ; 
Perpetuoque comans jam deflorescit oliva, 

Fugit et serisonam Diva perosa tubam, 
Fugit io terris, et jam non ultima virgo 

Creditur ad superas justa volasse domos. 
Te tamen interea belli circunisonat horror, 

Vivis et ignoto solus inopsque solo ; 
Et, tibi quam patrii non exhibuere penates, 

Sede peregrina quaeris egenus opem _ 
Patria dura parens, et saxis saevior albis 

Spumea qu^e pulsat littoris unda tui, 

Siccine te decet innocuous exponere foetus, 

Siccine in externam ferrea cogis humum, 

Et sinis ut terris queerant alimenta remotis 

Quos tibi prospiciens miserat ipse Deus ; 

Et qui Ireta ferunt de coelo nuntia, quique, 

Quoe via post cineres ducat ad astra, docent ? 
Digna quidem Stygiis quae vivas clausa tenebris, 

^ternaque animte digna perire fame ! 
Hand aliter vates terrse Thesbitidis olim 

Pressit inassueto devia tesqua pede, 
Desertasque Arabum salebras dum regis Achabi 

Effugit, at que tuas, Sidoni dira, manus : 
Talis et horrisono laceratus membra flagello, 

Paulus ab ^mathia pellitur urbe Cilix. 
Piscosaeque ipsum Gergessae civis lesum 

Finibus ingratus jussit abire suis. 
At tu sume animos, nee spes cadat anxia curis. 

Nee tua concutiat decolor ossa nietus. 
Sis etenim quamvis fulgentibus obsitus armis, 

Intenteutque tibi niillia tela necem. 
At nullis vel inerme latus violabitur armis. 

Deque tuo cuspis nulla cruore bibet. 
Namque eris ipse Dei radiante sub aegide tutus, 

Ille tibi custos, et pugil ille tibi ; 
Ille Sionaea; quit tot sub moenibus arcis 

Assyrios fudit nocte silente viros ; 
Inque' fugam vertit quos in Samaritadas oras 

Misit ab antiquis prisca Damascus agris, 
Terruit et densas pa\-ido cum rege cohortes, 
Aere dum vacuo buccina clara sonat, 



■.4 





fe 




i86 



ELEGIARUM LIBER. 



\ , ^ 



>| 




Cornea pulvereum duni verberat ungula campum, 

Currus arenosam dum quatit actus huiiium, 
Auditurque hinnitus equorum ad bella riientum, 

Et strepitus ferri, munnuraqiie alta vinun. 
Et tu (quod superest miseris) sperare inemento, 

Et tua magnanitno pectore vince mala ; 
Nee dubites quandoque frui melioribus annis, 

Atque iterum patrios posse videre lares. 



EIvEG. V. Anno .Etatis 20. 

IN ADVENTUM VERIS. 

In se perpetuG Tempus revolubile gyro 

Jam revocat Zephyros, vere tepente, novos ; 
Induiturque brevem Tellus reparata juventam, 

Jamque soluta gelu dulce virescit humus. 
Fallor? an et nobis redeunt in carmina vires, 

Ingeniumque mihi munere veris adest ? 
Muuere veris adest, iterumque vigescit ab illo, 

(Quis putet?) atque aliquod jam sibi poscit opus. 
Castalis ante oculos, bifidumque cacumeu oberrat, 

Et mihi Pyrenen somnia nocte ferunt ; 
Concitaque arcano fervent mihi pectora niotu, 

Et furor, et sonitus me sacer intus aglt. 
Delius ipse venit, video Peneide lauro 

Implicitos crines, Delius ipse venit. 
Jam mihi mens liquidi raptatur in ardua cceli, 

Perque vagas nubes corpore liber eo ; 
Perque umbras, perque antra feror penetralia vatum, 

Et mihi fana patent interiora Deum ; 
Intuiturque animus toto quid agatur Oh'tnpo, 

Nee fugiunt oculos Tartara cceca meos. 
Quid tam grande sonat distento spiritus ore ? 

Quid parit h;tc rabies, quid sacer iste furor ? 
Ver mihi, quod dedit ingenium, cantabitur illo ; 

Profuerint isto reddita dona modo. 
Jam, Philomela, tuos, foliis adoperta noveliis, 

Instituis modules, dum silet omne nemus : 
Urbe ego, tu sylva, simul incipianuis utrique, 

Et simul adventum veris uterque canat. 
Veris, io rediere vices, celebremus honores 

Veris, et hoc subeat Musa perennis opus. 
Jam sol ^Ethiopas fugiens Tithoniaque arva, 

Flectit ad Arctoas aurea lora plagas. 
Est breve noctis iter, brevis est mora noctis cpacae, 

Horrida cum tenebris exulat il'.a suis. 
Jamque Lycaonius plaustrum coeleste Bootes 

Non longa sequitur fessus ut ante via ; 



/« 




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■.LEG I ARUM LIBER. 



1S7 






ft ! 



■=^", 



Nunc etiam solitas circuni Jovis atna toto 

EKCubias agitant sidera rara polo : 
Nam dolus, et cades, et vis cum nccte recessit 

Neve Gieanteum Dii tiniuere scelus. 
Forte aliquis scopuli recubans in vertice pastor, 

Roscida cum prime sole rubescit bmnus, 
Hac ait, hac carte caruisti nocte puella, 

rhoebe, tua, celeres qu£e retmeret equos. 
Laeta suas repetit sylvas, pbaretramque resumit 

Cvntbia, luciferas x\t videt alta rotas ; 
Et tenues ponens radios, gaudere videtur 

Officium fieri tarn breve fratns ope. 
Desere Phcebus ait, thalamos, Aurora, seniles, 

Quid iuvat effoeto procubuisse toro ? 
Te~manet vEolides viridi venator in herba : 
Surcre, tuos ignes altus Hymettus baoet. 
Flava verecundo dea crimen in ore fatetur, 

Et matutinos ocins urget equos. 
Exuit invisam Tellus rediviva senectam, 

Et cupit amplexus, Phoebe, subire tuos ; 
Et cupit, et digna est. Qmd enim formosius illla, 

Pandit ut omniferos luxunosa smus, 
Atque Arabum spirat messes, et ab ore venusto 

Mitia cum Paphiis fundit amoma rosis .-■ 
Ecce coronatur sacro frons ardua luco, 
Cin^it ut Idaeam pinea turns Opim ; 
Et vario madidos intexit flore capillos, 

Floribus et visa est posse placere suis. 
Floribus effiisos ut erat redimita capillos, 

Tsenario placuit diva Sicana Deo. 
\spice Pb^be, tibi faciles hortantur amores, 
Mellitasque movent flamina verna preces : 
Cinnamea Zephvrus leve plaudit odorfer ala, 

Blanditiasque tibi ferre videntur aves. 
Nee sine dote tuos tumeraria quserit amores 

Terra, nee optatos poscit egena toros ; 
Alma salutiferum medicos tibi gramen m usus 

Praibet, et hinc titulos adjuvat ipsa tuos : 
Quod si te pretium, si te fulgentia tangunt 

Munera, ( muneribus seepe coemptus amor) 
Ilia tibi ostentat quascunque sub tequore vasto, 

Et superinjectis montibus abdit opes. 
Ah quoties, cum tu clivoso fessus Olympo 

In vespertinas prsecipitans aquas 
Cur te, iSquit, cursu languentem, Phoebe, diurno 

Hesperiis recipit cserula mater aquis i 
QuidScum Tethv? Quid cum Tartesside lympha? 

Dia quid immundo perluis ora salo ? 
Frigora Phoebe, mea melius captabis in umbra, 
Hue ades, ardentes imbue rore comas. 





^r 




1 88 



ELEGIARUM LIBER. 



m \ \\. 




Mollior egelida veniettibi somniis in lierba ; 

Hue ades, et gremio luniina pone nieo. 
Quaque jaces, circuni mulcebit lene susurrans 

Aura me humentes corpora fusa rosas : 
Nee me (crede mihi) terrent Semeleia fata, 

Nee Phaetouteo fumidus axis equo ; 
Cum tu, Phoebe, tuo sapieutius uteris igni : 

Hue ades, et gremio lumina poue meo. 
Sic Tellus lasciva suos suspirat amores ; 

Matris in exemplum cetera turba ruunt : 
Nunc etenim toto eurrit vagus orbe Cupido, 

Languentesque fovet solis ab igne faces. 
Insonuere novis lethalia cornua nervis, 

Triste micant ferro tela corusca novo. 
Jamque vel invictam tentat superasse Dianam, 

Quseque sedet sacro Vesta pudica foco. 
Ipsa senescentem reparat Venus annua formam, 

Atque iterum tepido ereditur orta mari. 
Marmoreas juvenes clamant Hymenaee per urbes, 

Ivittus, io Hymen, et cava saxa sonant. 
Cultior ille venit, tunicaque deeentior apta, 

Punieeum redolet vestis odora croeuni. 
Egrediturque frequens, ad amoeni gaudia veris, 

Virgineos auro cincta puella sinus : 
Votum est cuique suum, votum est tamen omnibus unum, 

Ut sibi, quem cupiat, det Cytherea virum. 
Nunc quoque septena modulatur arundine pastor, 

Et sua, quae jungat, earmina Ph3-llis habet. 
Navita nocturno placat sua sidera cantu, 

Delphinasque leves ad vada summa vocat. 
Jupiter ipse alto cum conjuge ludit Olj'mpo, 

Couvocat et famulos ad sua festa Deos. 
Nunc etiam Satyri, cum sera crepuscula surgunt, 

Pervolitant celeri florea rura choro, 
Sylvanusque sua cyparissi fronde revinctus, 

Semicaperque Deus, semideusque caper. 
Quseque sub arboribus Dryades latuere vetustis, 

Perjiiga, per solos expatiantur agros. 
Per sata luxuriat fruticetaque Maenalius Pan, 

Vix Cybele mater, vix sibi tuta Ceres ; 
Atque aliquam eupidus prasdatur Oreada Faunus, 

Consulit in trepidos dum sibi n3miplia pedes ; 
Jamque latet, latitansque cupit male tecta videri, 

Et fugit, et fugiens pervelit ipsa capi. 
Dii quoque non dubitant coelo prseponere sylvas, 

Et sua quisque sibi numina lucus habet. 
Et sua quisque diu sibi numina lucus habeto. 

Nee vos arborea dii precor ite domo 
Te referaut miseris te, Jupiter, aurea terris 

Sajcla : quid ad nimbos aspera tela redis ? 






% 






v> 







i' III 







h 




ELEGIARLLM LIBER. 189 

Tu saltern lente rapidos age, Phoebe, jugales. 
Qua potes, et sensim tempora veris eaiit ; 

Brumaqiie productas tarde lerat hispida noctes, 
Ingruat et nostro serior umbra poio. 



ELEG. VI. 

AD CAROI,UM DEODATUM RURI COMMORANTEM, 

Qui ciini Idibus Decemb. scripsisset, et sua carmina excusari pos- 
tulasset si solito minus essent botia, quod inter lautitias, quibus 
erat ab aniicis exceptus, baud sat.s fehcem operani Musis dare se 
posse affirmabat, hoc habuit responsuiii. 

MiTTO tibi sanarti non pleno ventre saluteni, 

Qua tu distento forte carere potes. 
At tua quid nostrani prolectat Musa camoenam. 

Nee siiiit optatas posse sequi tenebras ? 
Carmine scire velis quani te redamemque colamcue, 

Crede tniiii vix hoc carmine scire queas. 
Nam neque noster amor modulis includitur arctis, 

Nee venit ad claudos integer ipse pedes. 
Quam bene solennes epulas, hilaremque Decembrem, 

Festaque coelifugam quae coluere Deum, 
Deliciasque refers, hiberni gaudia ruris, 

Haustaque per lepidos Gallica musta focos ! 
Quid quereris refugam vino dapibiisque poesin ? 

Carmen amat Bacchutn, carmina Bacciius amat 
Nee puduit Phcebum virides gestasse corymbos, 

Atque hederam lauro prteposuisse suae. 
Saepius Aoniis clamavit colhbus Euoe 

Mista Thyoneo turba novena choro 
Naso Corallaeis mala carmina misit ab agris : 

Non illic epulae, non sata vitis erat. 
Quid nisi vina, rosasque, racemiferumque Lyaeum, 

Cantavit brevibus Teia Musa modis? 
Pindaricosque inflat numeros Teumesius Euan, 

Et redolet suniptum pagina quseque meruiu ; 
Dum gravis everso currus crepat axe supiuus, 

Et volat Eleo pulvere fuscus eques. 
Quadrimoque madens L,yricen Romanus laccho, 

Dulce cauit Glyceran, flaviconiamque Cliloen. 
Jam quoque lauta tibi generoso mensa paratu 

]\Ientis alit vires, ingeniumque fovet. 
Massica fcecundara despumant pocula venam, 

Fundis et ex ipso condita metra cado. 
Addimus his artes, fusumque per intima PhcEbum 

Corda ; favent uui Bacchus, Apollo, Ceres. 




1 





igo 



ELEGIARUM LIBER. 



mm 



Scilicet hand tniruni, tarn dulcia camiina perte, 

Nuiniiie conrposito, tres peperisse Decs. 
Nunc quoque Tiiressa tibi cx'lato barbitos auro 

Insouat arguta rrioUiter iota manu : 
Auditurque chelys suspensa tapetia circuni, 

Virgineos tremula quai regat arte pedes. 
Ilia tuas saltern teneant spectacula Musas, 

Et revoceut, quantum crapula pellit iners. 
Crede niihi, dum psallit ebur, comitataque plectrum 

Implet odoratos festa chorea tholos, 
Percipies taciturn per pectora serpere Phoebum, 

Quale repentinus permeat ossa calor, 
Perque puellares oculos, digitumque souantem. 

Irruet in totos lapsa Thalia sinus. 
Namque Elegia levis multorum cura Deorum est, 

Et vocat ad numeros quenilibet ilia suos ; 
Iviber adest elegis, Eratoque, Ceresque, Venusque, 

Et cum purpurea niatre tenellus Amor. 
Talibus iude licent convivia larga poetis, 

Saepius et veteri commaduisse niero : 
At qui bella refert, et adulto sub Jove ccelum, 

Heroasque pios, semideosque duces, 
Et nunc sancta canit superum consulta deorum, 

Nunc latrata fero regna profunda cane, 
Ille quidem parce, Samii pro more magistri, 

Vivat, et innocuos prsebeat herba cibos ; 
Stet prope fagineo pellucida lympha catillo, 

Sobriaque e puro poculla fonte bibat. 
Additur huic scelerisque vacans, et casta juventus, 

Et rigidi mores, et sine labe manus : 
Qualis veste nitens sacra, et lustralibus undis, 

Surgis ad infensos augur iture Deos. 
Hoc ritu vixisse ferunt post rapta sagacem 

Lumina Tiresian, Ogygiunique Linon, 
Et lare devoto profugum Calchanta, senemque 

Orpheon, edomitis sola per antra feris ; 
Sic dapis exiguus, sic rivi potor Homerus 

Dulichium vexit per freia longa viruni, 
Et per monstrificam Perseiae Phoebados aulam, 

Et vada foemineis insidiosa sonis, 
Perque tuas, rex ime, domos, ubi sanguine nigro 

Dicitur umbrarum detinuisse greges. 
Diis etenim sacer est vates, divumque sacerdos, 

Spirat et occultum pectus et ora Jovem. 
At tu si quid agam scitabere (si modo saltern 

Esse putas tanti noscere si quid agam) 
Paciferum canitnus Ccelesti semine regem, 

Faustaque sacratis sascula pacta libris ; 
Vagitumque Dei, et stabulantem paupere tect 

Qui suprema suo cum patre regna colit ; 



f#^ 



VVR*. 



l3 




WiM 





ELEGIARUM LIBER. 



191 



Stelliparumque polum, luodulaiitesque sethere turmas, 

Et subito elisos ad sua fana Deos. 
Dona quidem dedimus Christi uatalibus ilia, 

Ilia sub auroram lux nuhi prima tulit. 
Te quoque pressa iiianeut patriis meditata cicutis; 

Tu inihi, cui recitetn, judicis iustar eris. 




^^ 



EIvEG. VII. Anno .^tatis 19. 

1628. 

NoNDUM, blanda, tuas leges, Amathusia, noram, 

Et Paphio vacuum pectus ab igne fuit. 
S«pe cupidineas, puerilia tela, sagittas, 

Atque tuum sprevi, inaxime, numen, Amor. 
Tu, puer, imbelles, dixi, trausfige columbas, 

Conveuiuut tenero niollia bella duci : 
Aut de passeribus timidos age, par\'e, trmmplios, 

Hffic sunt militise digna trophsea tuae. 
In genus humanum quid inania dirigis arma ? 

Non valet in fortes ista pharetra viros. 
Non tulit hoc Cyprius, ueque euim Deus ullus ad u-as 

Promptior, et duplici jam ferus igne calet. 
Ver erat, et summse radians per culmina vill^ 

Attulerat primam lux tibi, Male, diem : 
At mihi adhuc refugam quaerebant lumina noctem, 

Nee matutinum sustinuere jubar. 
Astat Amor lecto, pictis Amor impiger alis ; 
Prodidit astantem mota pharetra Deum : 
Prodidit et fades, et dulce minantis ocelli, 

Et quicquid puero dignum et Amore fuit. 
Talis in ieierno j uvenis Sigeius Olympo 

Miscet amatori pocula plena Jovi ; 
Aut, qui formosas pellexit ad oscula nymphas, 

Thiodamantffius Naide raptus Hylas. 
Addideratque iras, sed et has decuisse piUares, 

Addideratque truces, nee sine felle, niinas. 
Et miser exemplo sapuisses tutius, inquit : 
Nunc mea quid possit dextera, testis er.s. 
Inter et expertos vires numerabere nostras, 

Et faciam vero per tua danina fidem. 
Ipse ego, si nescis, strato Pythone superbuni 

Edomui Phoebum, cessit et ille mihi ; 
Et quoties meminit Peneidos, ipse fatetur 

Certius et gravius tela nocere niea. 
Me nequit adductum curvare peritius arcuni, 

Qui post terga solet vincere, Parchus eques : 
Cvdoniusque niilii cedit venator, et ille 
"inscius uxori qui necis author erat. 




^ 




192 



ELEGIARUM LIBER. 



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%. 



# 



Est etiam nobis ingens quoque victus Orion, 

Herculeseque manus, Herculeusque comes. 
Jupiter ipse licet sua fulmina torqueat in me, 

H^rebunt lateri spicula nostra Jovis. 
Caetera, quae dubitas, melius, mea tela docebunt, 

Et tua non leviter corda petenda mihi. 
Nee te, stulte, tuae poterunt defendere Musae, 

Nectibi Phoebseus porriget anguis openi. 
Dixit, etaurato quatiens mucronesagittam, 

Evolat in tepidos Cypridos ille sinus, 
At mihi risuro tonuit ferus ore minaci, 

Ut mihi de puero non metus uUus erat. 
Et modo qua uostri spatiantur in urbe Quirites, 

Et modo villarum proxima rura placent. 
Turba frequens, facieque simillima turba dearum, 

Splendida per medias itque reditque vias ; 
Auctaque luce dies gemino fulgore corusat : 

Fallor ? An et radios hinc quoque Phoebus habet ? 
Haec ego non fugi spectacula grata severus, 

Impetus et quo me fert juvenilis, agor : 
Lumina luminibus male providus obvia misi, 

Neve oculos potui continuisse meos. 
Unam forte aliis supereminuisse notabam ; 

Principium nostri lux erat ilia mali. 
Sic Venus optaret mortalibus ipsa videri, 

Sic regina Deum conspicienda fuit. 
Hanc memor objecit nobis malus ille Cupido, 

Solus et bos nobis texuit ante dolos. 
Nee procul ipse vafer latuit ; multteque sagittae, 

Et facis a tergo grande pependit onus : 
Nee mora : nunc ciliis hassit, nunc virginis on, 

Insilit hinc labiis, insidet inde genis : 
Et quascunque agilis partes jaculotor oberrat, 

Hei mihi, mille locis pectus inerme ferit. 
Protinus insoliti subierunt corda furores, 

Uror amans intus, flammaque totus erani. 
Interea misero quae jam mihi sola placebat, 

Ablata est oculis non reditura meis. 
Ast ego progredior tacite querebundus, et excors 

Et dubius volui ssepe referre pedem. 
Eindor, et htec remanet : sequitur pars altera votum, 

Raptaque tam subito gaudia flere juvat. 
Sic dolet amissum proles Junonia coelum, 

Inter Lemniacos praecipitata focos : 
Talis et abreptum solem respexit, ad Orcuni 

Vectus ab attonitis Amphiaraus equis. 
Qtud faciam infelix, et et luctu victus? Amores 

Nee licet inceptos ponere, neve sequi. 
O utinam, spectare semel mihi detur amatos 

Vultus, et coram tristia verba loqui ! 



f:- 





I 




EL EG I A RUM LIBER. 



193 



■■ V v^i',; 



■*■«■ 



Forsitan et duro non est adamante creata 

Forte nee ad nostras surdeat ilia preces ! 
Crede mihi, nulUis sic infeliciter arsit, 

Ponar in exemplo primus et uniis ego. 
Parce precor, teueri cum sis Deus ales anions, 

Pusnent officio nee tua facta tuo. 
Jam tuus O certe est mihi formidabilis arcus, 

Nate dea, jaculis nee minus igne potens : 
Et tua fumabunt nostris altana donis, 

Solus et in superis tu mihi summus ens. 
Deme meos tandem, verum nee deuie, furores, 

Nescio cur miser est suaviter omnis amans : 
Tu modo da facilis, postliEEC mea siqua futura est, 

Cuspis amaturos figat ut una duos. 




H^C ego, mente olim Iseva, studioque supmo, 

Nequitiae posui vana tropheea mese. 
Scilicet abreptum sic me mains impulit error, 

Indocilisque eetas prava magistra fuit. 
Donee Socraticos umbrosa Academia rivos 

Prsebuit, admissum dedocuitque jugum. 
Protinus, extinctis ex illo tempore flammis, 

Cincta rigent multo pectora nostra gelu. 
Unde suis frigus metuit puer ipse sagittis, 

Et Diomedeam vim timet ipsa Venus. 



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IN PRODITIONEM BOMBARDICAM. 

Cum simul in regetn nuper satrapasque Britannos 

Atisus es infandum, perfide Fauxe, nefas, 
Fallor ? An et mitis volnisti ex parte videri, 

Et pensare mala cum pietate scelus ? 
Scilicet lios alti missurus ad atria cceli, 

Sulphui-eo curru, flammivolisque rotis : 
Qualiter ille, feris caput inviolable Parcis, 

Liquit lordanios turbine raptus agros. 



IN EANDFM. 

SicciNE tentasti coelo donasse lacobum, 

QuiB septemgemino Bellua monte lates ? 
Ni meliora tuum poterit dare munera numen, 

Parce, precor, donis insidiosa tuis. 
Ille quidem sine te consortia serus adivit 

Astra, nee inferni pulveris usus ope. 
Sic potius foedos in coelum pelle cucullos, 

Et quot babet brutos Roma profana Deos : 
Namque hac aut alia nisi quemque adjuveris arte, 

Crede milii, coeli vix bene scaudet iter. 

III. 
IN EANDEM. 

PURGATOREM animae derisit lacobus ignem, 

Et sine qiio superum nou adeunda domus. 
Erenduit boc trina monstrum Latiale corona, 

Movit et borrificum cornua dena minax. 
Et nee inultus, ait, temnes niea sacra, Britanne : 

Supplicium spreta relligione dabis. 
Et si stelligeras unquam penetraveris arces, 

Non nisi per flammas triste patebit iter. 

(194) 



Vw^:^ 









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EPIGRAMMATUM LIBER. 195 

O quam funesto cecinisti proxinia vero, 
Verbaque ponderibus vix caritura suis ! 

Nam prope Tartareo sublime rotatus ab igni, 
Ibat ad aethereas, umbra perusta, plagas. 

IV. 

IN EANDEM. 

QuEM modo Roma suis devoverat impia dins, 

Et styge damnarat, Tsenarioque sinu ; 
Hunc, vice mutata, jam tollere gestit ad astra, 

Et cupit ad superos evehere usque Deos. 



IN INVENTOREM BOMBARD.^. 

lAPETiONiDEM laudavit caeca vetustas, 
Qui tulit jetheream solis ab axe facem ; 

At mihi major erit, qui lurida creditur arma, 
Et trifidum fulmen surripuisse Jovi. 



AD LEONORAM ROM^ CANENTEM. 

Angei^uS unicuique suus, sic credite gentes, 

Obtigit aethereis ales ab ordinibus. 
Quid miruui, Leonora, tibi si gloria major ? 

Nam tua prsesentem vox sonat Ipsa Deum. 
Aut Deus, aut vacui certe mens tertia coeli 

Per tua secreto guttura serpit agens ; 
Serpit agens, facilisque docet mortalia corda 

Sensim immortali assuescere posse sono. 
Quod si cuncta quidem Deus est, per cunctaque fusus, 

In te una loquitur, csetera mutus habet. 



AD EANDEM. 

Ai^TERA Torquatum cepit Leonora poetam, 

Cujus ab insano cessit amore furens. 
Ah miser ille tuo quanto felicius aevo 

Perditus, et propter te, Leonora, foret ! 
Et te Pieria sensisset voce canentem 

Aurea matemae fila movere lyrae : 
Quamvis Dircaio torsisset lumina Pentheo 

Sffivior, aut totus desipuisset iners, 
Tu tamen errantes caeca vertigine sensus 

Voce eadem poteras composuisse tu.i , 
Et poteras, aegro spirans sub corde, quitem 

Flexanimo cantu restituisse sibi 



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EPIGRAMMA TUM LIBER. 

VIII. 

AD EANDEM. 

Credula quid liquidam Sirena, Neapoli, jactas, 

Claraque Partlienopes fana Acheloiados ; 
Littoreamque tua defunctam Naida ripa, 

Corpora Chalcidico sacra dedisse rogo ? 
Ilia quidem vivitque, et amoena Tibridis unda 

Mutavit rauci murmura Pausilipi. 
Illic Romulidum studiis ornata secundis, 

Atque homines cantu detinet atque Deos. 



IN SALMASII HUNDREDAM. 

QuiS expedivit Salmasio suam Hundredam, 
Picamque docuit verba nostra conari ? 
Magister artis venter, et Jacobei 
Centum exulantis viscera marsupii regis. 
Quod si dolosi spes refulserit nummi, 
Ipse, Antichristi qui modo primatum Papse 
Minatus uno est dissipare sufiiatu, 
Cantabit ultro Cardinalitium melos. 



IN SALMASIUM. 

GaudeTe scombri, et quicquid est piscium salo 
Qui frigida hyeme incolitis algentes freta ! 
Vestrum misertus ille Salmasius Eques 
Bonus, amicire nuditatem cogitat ; 
Chartaeque largus, apparat papyrinos 
Vobis cucullos, praeferentes Claudii 
Insignia, nomenque et decus, Salmasii : 
Gestetis vX per omne cetarium forum 
Equitis clientes, scriniis mugentium 
Cubito virorum, et capsulis, gratissimos. 



Galli ex concubitu gravidam te, Pontia, Mori, 
Quis bene moratam, morigeramqi^e neget? 



APOLOGUS DE RUSTICO ET HERO. 
1673. 
RusTicus ex malo sapidissima poma quotannis 

Legit, et urbano lecta dedit Domino : 
Hinc incredibili fructus dulcedine captus, 
Malum ipsam in proprias transtulit areolas. 



# 






EPIGRAMMATUM LIBER. 



197 






Hacteuus ilia ferax, sed longo debilis aevo, 

Moto solo assueto, protiniis aret iners. 
Quod tandem ut patuit Domino, spe lusus inani, 

Damuavit celeres in sua damna manus ; 
Atque ait, Heu quanto satius fuit ilia Coloni, 

Parva licet, grato dona tulisse ammo ! 
Possem ego avaritiam fraenare, gulamque voracem : 

Nunc periere mihi et foetus, et ipse parens. 



AD CHRISTINAM SUECORUM REGINAM, NOMINEJ 
CROMWELLI. 

BelwpoTENS virgo, septem regina trionum, 

Christina, Arctoi lucida stella poli ! 
Cernis, quas merui dura sub casside rugas, 

Utque senex armis impiger ora tero ; 
Invia fatorum dum per vestigia nitor, 

Exequor et popuh fortia jussa manu. 
Ast tibi submittit frontem reverentior umbra ; 

Nee sunt hi vultus regibus usque truces. 



X 








Sl2l^>a^«^i^ Xibei% 



IN OBITUM PROCANCELLARII, MEDICI. 

Anno ^Etatis 17. 

1626. 

ParERK fati discite legibus, 
Manusque Parcse jam date supplices^ 
Qui pendulum telluris orbem 
lapeti colitis nepotes. 
Vos si relicito mors vaga Taenaro 
Semel vocarit flebilis, heu, morae 
Tentantur incassum, dolique ; 

Per teuebras Stygis ire certum est. 
Si destinatam pellere dextera 
Mortem valeret, non ferus Hercules, 
Nessi venenatus cruore, 
^mathia jacuisset Oeta : 
Nee fraude turpi Palladis invidae 
Vidisset occisum Ilion Hectora, aut 
Quem larva Pelidis peremit 
Ense Locro, Jove lacrymante. 
Si triste fatum verba Hecateia 
Fugare possint, Telegoni parens 
Vixisset infamis, potentique 
^giali soror usa virga. 
Numenque trinum fallere si queant 
Artes medentum, ignotaque gramina, 
Non gnarus herbaruni Machaon 
Eurypyli cecidisset hasta : 
Lsesisset et nee te, Philyreie, 
Sagitta Echidnge perlita sanguine ; 
Nee tela te fulmenque avitum, 
Cffise puer genitricis alvo. 
Tuque, O alumno major Apolline, 
Gentis togatse cui regimen datum, 
Frondosa quem nunc Cirrha luget, 
Et mediis Helicon in undis; 

(198) 





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^ 



SYL VARUM LIBER. i99 

Jam prtefuisses Palladio gregi 
Lffitus, superstes, nee sine gloria; 
Nee puppe lustrasses Charontis 
Horribiles barathri recessus. 
At fila rupit Persephone tua, 
Irata, cum te viderit artibus, 
Succoque pollenti, tot artns 
TTaucibus eripuisse mortis. 
Colende Praeses, membra precor tua 
Molli quiescant cespite, et ex tuo 
Grescant rosaj calthseque busto, 
Purpureoque hyacinthus ore. 
Sit mite de te judicium ^aci,_ 
Subrideatque .Etnaea Proserpma ; 
Interque felices perennis 
Elysio spatiere campo. 



IN QUINTUM NOVEMBRIS. 

Anno vEtatis 17. 

1626. 

Tam plus extrema veniens liicobus ab arcto, 
Teucrieenas populos, lateque pateiitia regna 
iS'onum teiiuit ; jamque, inv-xol^^ile fe^us. . 
Sceptra Caledouiis conjunxerat Angelica Scotis . 
Pacificusque novo, felix divesque, sedebat 
In solio, occultique doli securus et bostis : 
Cum ferns ignifluo regnans Acheronte tyrannus, 
Eumenidum^ pater, fsthereo vagus e^ul Olympo, 
Forte per immensum terrarum erraverat orbem, 
Dinumerans sceleris socios, vemasque tideles, 
Participes regni post funera mcesta futuros. 
Hie tempestates medio ciet acre duras, 
Illic unanimes odium struit inter amicos, 
Armat et invictas in mutua viscera geutes ; 
Regnaque olivifera vertit florentia pace : 
Et quoscunque videt puree virtutis amantes 
5os cupit adjicere impeno, fraudumque magister 
Tentat inaccessum scelen corrumpere pectus , 
Insidiasque locat tacitas, c^ssesque latentes 
Tendit, ut incautos rapiat ; ceu Caspia tjris 
Insequitur trepidam deserta per avia P^^dam 
Nocte sub illuni, et somno nictantibus astris . 
Talibus infestat populos .S^mmanus et urbes, 
Cinctus cterulese fumanti turbine flamm^. 
Jamque fluentisonis albentia rupibus arva 
Apparent, et terra Deo dilecta manno, 




Si'^ 




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oo SYLVARUM LIBER. 

Cui nomen dederat quondam Neptunia proles ; 
Amphitryoniadeu qui non dubitavit atrocem, 
^quore tranato, furiali poscere bello, 
Ante expugnatse crudelia ssecula Trojs. 
At simul hanc, opibusque et festa pace beatam, 
Aspicit, et pingues donis Cerealibus agros, 
Quodque magis doluit, venerantem numina veri 
Sancta Dei populum, tandem suspiria rupit 
Tartareos ignes et luridum olentia sulphur ; 
Qualia Trinacria trux ab Jove clausus in ^tna 
Efflat tabifico monstrosus ob ore Tiphseus. 
Ignescunt oculi, stridetque adamantinus ordo 
Dentis, ut armorum fragor, ictaque cuspide cuspis. 
Atque pererrato solum hoc lacrymabile mundo 
Inveni, dixit, gens hsec mihi sola rebellis, 
Contemtrixque jugi, nostraque potentior arte. 
Ilia tamen, mea si quicquam tentamina possmit, 
Non feret hoc impune diu, non ibit inulta. 
Hactenus ; et piceis liquido natat aere pennis : 
Qua volat, adversi prsecursant agmine venti, 
Densantur nubes, et crebra tonitrua fulgent. 

Jamque pruinosas velos superaverat Alpes, 
Et tenet Ausonis fines : a parte sinistra 
Nimbifer Appenninus erat, priscique Sabini, 
Dextra veneficiis infamis Hetruria, nee non 
Te furtiva, Tibris, Thetidi videt oscula dantem ; 
Hinc Mavortigense consistit in arce Quirini. 
Reddiderant dubiam jam sera, crepuscula lucem, 
Cum circumgreditur totam Tricoronifer urbem, 
Panificosque Deos portat, scapulisque virorum 
Evehitur ; preeeunt submisso poplite reges, 
Et mendicantum series longissima fratrum ; 
Cereaque in manibus gestant funalia caeci, 
Cimmeriis nati in tenebris vitamque trahentes 
Templa dein multis subeunt lucentia tsdis, 
(Vesper erat sacer iste Petro) fremitusque canentum 
Ssepe tholos implet vacuos, et inane locorum. 
Qualiter exululat Bromius, Bromiique caterva, 
Orgia cantantes in Echionio Aracyntho, 
Dum tremit attonitus vitreis Asopus in undis, 
Et procul ipse cava responsat rupe Cith^ron. 

His igitur tandem solenni more peractis, 
Nox senis amplexus Erebi taciturna reliquit, 
Praecipitesque impellit equos stimulante flagello, 
Captum oculis Typhlonta, Melanchaetemque ferocem, 
Atque Acherontseo prognatam patre Siopeu_ 
Torpidam, et hirsutis horrentem Phrica capillis. 
Interea regum domitor, Phlegetontius h seres, 
Ingreditur thalamos, neque enim secretus adulter 
Producit steriles milli sine pellice noctes ; 



I 











SYL VARU3I LIBER. 




|:M 



■^ 




At vix compositos somnus claudebat ocellos, 
Cum niger unibrarum domiiius, rectorque silentum, 
Praedatorque hominuui. falsa sub imagine tectus, 
Astitit ; assumptis micuerunt tempora canis, 
Barba sinus promissa tegit, cineracea longo 
Syrmate verrit humum vestis, pendetque cucullus 
Vertice de raso, et, ne quicquam desit ad artes, 
Cannabeo lumbos constrinxit fune salaces, 
Tarda fenestratis figens vestigia calceis. 
Talis, uti fama est, vasta Franciscus eremo 
Tetra vagabatur solus per lustra ferarum, 
Sylvestrique tulit genti pia verba salulis 
Impius, atque lupos domuit, Libycosque leones. 

Subdolus at tali Serpens velatus annctu, 
Solvit in has fallax ora execrantia voces ; 
Dormis nate? Etiamne tuos sopor opprimit artus ? 
Immemor, O, fidei, pecorumque oblite tuoruni ! 
Dum cathedram, venerande, tuam, diademaque triplex 
Ridet Hyperboreo gens barbara nata sub axe, 
Dumque pharetrati spernunt tua jura Britanni : 
Surge, age , surge piger, Latins quem Ceesar adorat, 
Cui reserata patet convexi janua cceli, 
Turgentes animos, et fastus frange procaces, 
Sacrilegique sciant, tua quid maledictio possit, 
Et quid Apostolica; possit custodia clavis ; 
Et memor Hesperiae disjectam ulciscere classem, 
MerFnque Iberorum lato vexilla profundo, 
Sanctorumque cruci tot corpora fixa probrosse, 
Thermodoontea nuper regnante puella. 
At tu si tenero mavis torpescere lecto, 
Crescentesque negas liosti contundere vires ; 
Tyrrhenum implebit numeroso niilite pontum 
Signaque Aventino ponet fulgentia coUe : 
Relliquias veteruni franget, flammisque cremabit ; 
Sacraque calcabit pedibus tua colla profauis, 
Cujus gaudebant soleis dare baisa reges. 
Nee tamen hunc bellis et aperto Marte lacesses 
Irritus ille labor ; tu callidus utere fraude : 
Quselibet hoereticis disponere retia fas est. 
Jamque ad consilium extremis rex magnus ab oris 
Patricios vocat, et procerum de stirpe creatos, 
Grandaevosque patres, trabea canisque verendos ; 
Hos tu membratim poteris conspergere in auras, 
Atque dare in cineres, nitrati pulveris igne 
uEdibus injecto, qua convenere, sub imis. 
Protinus ipse igitur quoscunque habet Anglia fidos. 
Propositi, factique, mone : quisquamne tuorum 
Audebit summi non jussa facessere Pap^e ? 
Perculsosque metu subito, casuque stupentes, 
Invadat vel Gallus atrox, vel saevus Iberus. 









ijrfe ~^'" 




32 SYL VARUM LIBER. 

Seecula sic illic tandem IMariaiia redibunt, 
Tuque in belligeros iteruni dominaberis Anglos. 
Et, nequid tinieas, divos divasque secundas 
Accipe, quotque tuis celebrantur nuniina fastis. 
Dixit, et adscitos ponens nialefidus amictus, 
Fugit ad infaudani, regnum illgetabile, Lethen. 

Jam rosea Eoas pandens Tithonia portas, 
Vestit inauratas redeunti lumine terras ; 
Moestaque adhuc nigri deplorans funera nati, 
Irrigat ambrosiis montana cacumina guttis : 
Cum somnos pepulit stellatee janitor aulae, 
Nocturnos visus, et soninia grata revolvens. 

Est locus seterna septus caligine noctis, 
Vasta ruinosi quondam fundamina tecti, 
Nunc torvi spelunca Phoni, Prodotaeque bilinquis, 
Effera quos uno peperit Discordia partu. 
Hie inter csementa jacent, pneruptaque saxa, 
Ossa inhumata virum, et trajecta cadavera ferro; 
Hie Dolus intortis semper sedet ater ocellis, 
Jurgiaque, et stimulis armata Calumnia fauces, 
Et Furor, atque viae moriendi mille videntur, 
Et Timor, exsanguisque locum circumvolat Horror ; 
Perpetuoque leves per muta silentia Manes 
Exululant, tellus et sanguine conscia stagnat. 
Ipse etiam pavidi latitant penetralibus antri 
Et Phonos, et Prodotes ; ntiUoque sequente per antrum, 
Antrum horrens, scopulosum, atrum feralibus umbris, 
Diffugiunt sontes, et retro lumina vortunt : 
Hos pugiles Romae per specula longa fideles 
Evocat antistes Bab3-lonius, atque ita fatur. 

Finibus occiduis circumfusum incolit ajquor 
Gens exosa mihi ; prudens natura negavit 
Indignam penitus nostro conjungere mundo : 
Illuc, sic jubeo, celeri contendite gressu, 
Tartareoque leves difflentur pulvere in auras 
Et rex et pariter satrapae, scelerata propago : 
Et quotquot fidei caluere cupidine veras, 
Consilii socios adhibete, operisque ministros. 
Finierat ; rigidi cupide paruere gemelli. 

Interea longo flectens curvamine coelos 
Despicit aetherea Dominus qui fulgurat arce, 
Vanaque perversae ridet conamina turbae, 
Atque sui causam populi volet ipse tueri. 

Esse ferunt spatium, qua distat ab Aside terra 
Fertili-5 Europe, et spectat Mareotidas undas ; 
Hic turris posita est Titanidos ardua Famae, 
^rea, lata, sonans, rutilis vicinior astris 
Quam superimpositum vel Athos vel Pelion Ossae. 
Mille fores aditusque patent, totidemque fenestrae, 
Amplaque per tenues translucent atria muros : 









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SYL VARUM LIBER. 



203 



Excitat hie varios plebs agglomerata susurros ; 
Qualiter instrepitant circuni mulctralia bouibis 
Agmina muscarum, aiit texto per ovilia junco, 
Dum Canis sestivum coeli petit ardua culmen. 
Ipsa quidem summa sedet ultrix matrix in arce ; 
\uribus iunumeris cinctum caput eminet oUi, 
Queis sonitum exiguum trahit, atqua levissima capiat 
Murmura, ab extremis patuli confinibus orbis. 
Nee tot, Aristoride servator inique juvenese 
Isidos, immiti volvebas lumiiia vultu, 
Lumina noii unquam taeito nutantia somno, 
Lumina subjectas late spectaiitia terras. 
Istis ilia solet loea luce carentia ssepe _ 
Perlustrare, otiam radianti impervia soli : _ 
Millenisque loquax auditaque visaque Unguis 
Cuilibet effuudit temeraria ; veraque mendax 
Nunc minuit, modo confietis sermonibus auget. 
Sed tamen a nostro meruisti carmine laudes, 
Fama, bonum quo non aliud veracius ullum, 
Nobis digna cani, nee te memorasse pigebit 
Carmine tarn longo ; servati scilicet Angli 
Offieiis, vaga diva, tuis, tibi reddimus sequa. 
Te Deus, aeternos motu qui temperat ignes, 
Fulmine prtemisso alloquitur, terraque tremente : 
Fama, siles? An te latet impia Papistarura 
Conjurata cohors in meque meosque Britannos, 
Et nova sceptrigero csedes meditata lacobo ? 

Nee plura ; ilia statim sensit mandata Tonantis, 
Et, satis ante fugax, stridentes induit alat, 
Induit et variis exilia corpora plumis ; 
Dextra tubam gestat Temesaeo ex sere sonoram. 
Nee mora : jam pennis cedentes remigat auras, 
Atque parum est cursu celeres prsevertere nubes ; 
Jam ventos, jam solis equos post terga reliquit : 
Et prirao Angliacas, solito de more, per urbes 
\mbiguas voces, incertaque murmura spargit : 
Mox arguta dolos, et detestabile vulgat 
Proditionis opus, nee non facta horrida dictu, 
Authoresque addit sceleris, nee garrula ciecis 
Insidiis loea structa silet ; stupuere relatis 
Et pariter juvenes, pariter tremuere puellae, 
EiToetique senes pariter ; tantaeque ruiuse 
Sensus ad jetatem subito penetraverat oranem. 

Attamen intera populi miserescit ab alto 
^tbereus Pater, et crudelibus obstitit ausis 
Papieolum ; capti poenas raptantur ad acres : 
At pia thura Deo, et grati solvuntur honores ; 
Compita Iseta focis genialibus omnia fumant ; 
Turba choros juvenilis agit : Quintoque Novembns 
Nulla dies toto occurrit celebratior annc. 



^ 





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204 SYLVA.RUM LTBER. 



IN OBITUM PR^SULIS EI^IENvSlS. 



Anno ^55tatis 17. 



1626. 



t 



Adhuc madentes rore aqualebant genae, 

Et sicca iiondu:n lumina 
Adliuc liquentis imbre turgebant salis, 

Quern nuper effudi pius, 
Uum iiioesta charo justa persolvi rogo 

Wintoniensis Prassulis. 
Cum centilinguis Fama, proli ! semper mali 

Cladisque vera nuntia, 
Spargit per urbes divitis Eritanniae, 

Populosque Neptuuo satos, 
Cessisse morti, et ferreis sororibus, 

Te, generis liumani decus, 
Qui Rex sacrorum ilia fuisti in insula 

Quae uomen Anguillie tenet. 
Tunc inquietum pectus ira protinus 

Ebulliebat fervida, 
Ifuniulis potentem ssepe devovens deam : 

Nee vota Naso in Ibida 
Concepit alto diriora pectore ; 

Graiusque vates parcius 
Turpem Lycambis execratus est dolum, 

Sponsamque Neobulen suam. 
At ecce diras ipse dum fundo graves, 

Et imprecor neci necem, 
Audisse tales videor attonitus sonos 

Leni, sub aura, flamine : 
Caecos furores pone, pone vitream 

Bilemque, et irritas minas : 
Quid temere violas non nocenda numina, 

Subitoque ad iras percita ? 
Non est, ut arbitraris elusus miser, 

Mors atra Noctis filia, 
Erebove patre creta, sive Erinnye. 

Vastove nata sub Chao : 
Ast ilia, ccelo missa stellato, Dei 

Messes ubique colligit ; 
Ani masque mole carnea recouditas 

In lucem et auras evocat ; 
Ut cum fugaces excitant Horae diem, 

Themidos Jovisque filite ; 
Et sempiterni ducit ad vultus patris : 

At justa raptat impios 
Sub regna furvi luctuosa Tartari, 

Sedesque subterrancas. 







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SYL VARUM LIBER. 205 

Hanc ut vocantem Isetus audivi, cito 

FcEdum reliqui carcereni, 
Volatilesque faustus inter milites 

Ad astra sublimis feror : 
Vates ut olim raptus ad coelum senex, 

Auriga currus iguei. 
Non me Bootis terruere lucidi 

Sarraca tarda frigore, aut 
Formidolosi Scorpiouis brachia, 

Non ensis, Orion, tuus. 
PrEeterv-olavi fulgidi solus globum, 

Longeque sub pedibus deam 
Vidi triformem, dum coercebat sues 

Frsnis dracones aureis. 
Erraticorum siderum per ordines, 

Per lacteas velior plagas, 
Velocitatem ssepe miratus novam ; 

Donee nitentes ad fores 
Ventum est Olympi, et regiam crystalhuam, et 

Stratum smaragdis atrium. 
Sed hie tacebo ; nam quis effan queat. 

Oriuudus humano patre, 
Amcenitates illius loci? Mihi 

Sat est in aeternum frui. 




NATURAM NON PATI SENIUM. 

1628. 

HEU quam perpetuis erroribus acta fatiscit 
Aviamens hominum, tenebrisque immersa profundis, 
Oedipodioniam volvit sub pectore noctem ! 
Qu£e vesana suis metiri facta deorum 
Audet, et incisas leges adamante perenni 
Assimilare suis, nulloque solubile sseclo 
Consilium fati perituris alligat lions. 

Ergone marcescet sulcantibus obsita rugis 
Natural facies, et rerum publica mater 
Omnipamm contracta uterum stenlescet ab sevo i 
Et se facca senem, male certis passibus ibit 
Sidereum tremebunda caput ? Num tetra vetustas, 
Annorumque sterna fames, squalorque situsque, 
Sidera vexabunt? An et insatiabile Tempus 
Esuret Ccelum, rar.ietque in viscera patr-ai .■' 



K % 





2o6 



SYL VARUM LIBER. 




% 




Heu potuitue suas imprudens Jupiter arces 
Hoc contra munisse nefas, et Temporis isto 
Exemisse malo, gyrosque dedisse perennes ? 
Ergo erit ut quandoque sono dilapsa tremendo 
Convexi tabulata ruant, atque obvius ictu 
Stridat uterque polus, superaque ut Olympius aula 
Decidat, horribilisque retecta Gorgone Pallas ; 
Qualis in ^geam proles Junonia Lemnon 
Deturbata sacro cecidit de limine cceli ? 
Tu quoque, Plicebe, tui casus imitabere nati ; 
Prsecipiti curru, subitaque ferere ruina 
Pronus, et extincta fumabit lampade Nereus, 
Et dabit attonito feralia sibila ponto. 
Tunc etiam aerei divulsis sedibus Haemi 
Dissultabit apex, inioque allisa barathro 
Terrebunt Stygiutn dejecta Cerauuia Ditem, 
In superos quibus usus erat, fraternaque bella. 
At pater omnipotens, fundatis fortius astris, 
Consuluit rerum summae, certoque peregit 
Pondere fatorum lances, atque ordiue summo 
Singula perpetuum jussit servare tenoreni. 
Volvitur hinc lapsu tnundi rota prima diurno ; 
Raptat et ambitos socia vertigine coelos. 
Tardior baud solito Saturnus, et acer ut olim 
Fulmineum rutilat cristata casside Mavors. 
Floridus aeternum Phoebus juvenile coruscat, 
Nee fovet effoetas loca per declivia terras 
Devexo temone Deus ; sed semper arnica 
Luce potens, eadem currit per signa rotarum. 
Surgit odoratis pariter formosus ab Indis, 
^thereum pecus albenti qui cogit Olympo, 
Mane vocans, et serus agens in pascua coeli ; 
Temporis et gemino dispertit regna colore. 
Fulget, obitque vices alterno Delia comu, 
Caeruleumque ignem paribus complectitur ulnis. 
Nee variant elementa fidem, solitoque fragore 
Lurida perculsas jaculantur fulmina rupes. 
Nee per inane furit leviori murmure Corns, 
Stringit et armiferos sequali horrore Gelonos 
Trux Aquilo, spiratque hyemem, nimbosque volutaL 
Utque solet, Siculi diverberat ima Pelori 
Rex maris, et rauca circumstrepit sequora concha 
Oceaui Tubicen, nee vasta mole minorem 
^geona ferunt dorso Balearica cete. 
Sed neque, Terra, tibi saecli -vngor ille vetusti 
Priscus abest, servatque suum Narcissus odorem, 
Et puer ille suum tenet, et puer ille, decorem, 
Phoebe, tuusque, et, Cypri, tuus ; nee ditior oliin 
Terra datum sceleri celavit montibus axirum 
Conscia, vel sub aquis gemmas. Sic denique in gevum 








^' i 'L VA R UM L IBER. 

Ibit cunctaruni series justissima rerutn ; 
Donee flaniina orbem populabitur ultima, late 
Circumplexa polos, et vasti culniina coeli ; 
Ingentique rogo flagrabit machina mundi. 



207 



DE IDEA PLATONICA QUEMADMODUM 

ARISTOTELES INTELLEXIT. 

DiciTE, sacroruni praesides nemoruni deas, 
Tuque O noveni perbeata nutninis 
Meiuoria mater, quseque in ininienso procul 
Antro recumbis otiosa ^ternitas, 
Monumenta servans, et ratas leges Jovis, 
Coelique fastos atque ephemeridas Deum ; 
Quis ille primus, cujus ex imagine 
Natura solers finxit humanum geaus 
^ternus, incorriiptus, sequsevus polo, 
Unusque et universus, exemplar Dei ? 
Haud ille Palladis gemellus innub^ 
Interna proles insidet men ti Jovis ; 
Sed quamlibet natura sit communior, 
Tamen seorsus extat ad morem unius, 
Et, mira, certo striugitur spatio loci : 
Seu sempiternus ille siderum conies 
Cceli pererrat ordines decemplicis, 
Citimumve terris iucolit lunae globum : 
Sive, inter animas corpus adituras sedens, 
Obliviosas torpet ad Letlies aquas : 
Sive in remota forte terrarum plaga 
Incedit ingens hominis archetypus gigas, 
Et diis tremendus erigit celsum caput, 
Atlante major portitore siderum. 
Non, cui profundum csecitas lumen dedit, 
Dircaeus augur vidit hunc alto sinu ; 
Non hunc silente nocte Pleiones nepos 
Vatum sagaci praepes ostendit choro ; 
Non hunc sacerdos novit AssA'rius, licet 
Longos vetusti commemoret atavos Nini, 
Priscumque Belon, inclytumque Osiridem. 
Non ille trino gloriosus nomine 
Ter magnus Hermes, ut sit arcani sciens, 
Talem reliquit Isidis cultoribus. 
At tu, perenne ruris Academi decus, 
(Htec monstra situ primus induxti schol-isj 
jam Jam poetas, urbis exules tuae, 
Revocabis, ipse Tabulator maximus, 
Aut institutor ipse migrabis foras. 



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SYLVARUM LIBER. 



AD PATREM. 




It- 



Nunc mea Pierios cupiaui per pectora fontes 
Irriguas torquere vias, totumque per ora 
Volvere laxatum gemino de vertice rivum ; 
Ut teiiues oblita sonos audacibus alis 
Surgat ill officium veiieraiidi Musa parentis. 
Hoc utcuiique tibi gratiim, pater op time, carmen 
Bxiguum meditatur opus ; nee novimus ipsi 
Aptius a nobis quae possiiit munera donis 
Respondere tuis, quamvis nee maxima possint 
Respondere tuis, nedum ut par gratia donis 
Esse queat, vacuis quae redditur arida verbis. 
Sed tamen hsec nostros ostendit pagina census, 
Et quod liabemus opum cliarta numeravimus ista, 
Quae mihi sunt nullae, nisi quas dedit aurea Clio, 
Quas mihi semoto somiii peperere sub antro, 
Et nemoris laureta sacri Parnassides umbrae. 

Nee tu vatis opus divinum despice, carmen. 
Quo nihil aethereos ortus, et semina coeli, 
Nil magis humanam commendat origine mentem, 
Sancta Promethete retinens vestigia flamnia;. 
Carmen amant superi, tremebundaque Tartara carmen, 
Inia ciere valet, divosque ligare profundos, 
Et triplici duro Manes adamante coercet : 
Carmine sepositi retegunt arcana futuri 
Phoebades, et tremula; pallentes ora Sibyllae : 
Carmina sacrificus solennes pangit ad aras, 
Aurea sen sternit motantem cornua taurum ; 
Sen cum fata sagax fumantibus abdita fibris 
Consulit, et tepidis Parcam scrutatur in extis. 
Nos etiam patrium tunc cum repetemus Olympum, 
^55terii£eque morae stabunt immobilis aevi, 
Ibimus auratis per coeli templa coronis, 
Dulcia suaviloquo sociantes carmina plectro, 
Astra quibus, geminique poli convexa sonabunt. 
Spiritus et rapidos qui circinat igneus orbes, 
Nunc quoque sidereis intercinit ipse choreis 
Immortale melos, et inenarrabile carmen ; 
Torrida dum rutilus compescit sibila serpens, 
Demissoque ferox gladio mansuescit Orion ; 
Stellarum nee sentit onus Maurusius Atlas. 
Carmina regales epulas ornare solebant, 
Cum noiidum luxus, vastaeque immeiisa vorago 
Nota guise, et niodico spumabat coena Lyso. 
Tum de more sedens festa ad convivia vates, 
^sculea intonsos redimitus ab arbore criiies, 
Heroumque actus, imitandaque gesta canebat, . 
Et chaos, et positi late fundamina iiiundi, 
Reptantesque decs, et alantes numiua glandes, 










SVL VARUM LIBER. 



209 



Et nondutn Mtn&o quaesitum fulmen ab antro. 
Denique quid vocis modulamen inane juvabit 
Verborum sensusque vacans, numerique loquacis ? 
Silvestres decet iste choros, non Orphea cantus, 
Qui tenuit fluvios, et quercubus addidit aures, 
Carmine, non cithara ; simulachraque functa canende 
Compulit in lacrymas : habet has a carmine laudes. 

Nee tu perge, precor, sacras contemn ere Musas, 
Nee vauas inopesque puta, quarum ipse peritus 
Munere, mille sonos numeros componis ad aptos ; 
Millibus et vocem modulis variare can cram 
Doctus, Arionii merito sis nominis hseres. 
Nunc tibi quid mirum, si me genuisse poetam 
Contigerit, charo si tani prope sanguine juncti, 
Cognatas artes, studiumque affine sequamur ? 
Ipse volens Phoebus se dispertire duobus, _ 
Altera dona mihi, dedit altera dona parenti ; 
Dividuumque Deum, genitorque puerque, tenemus. 

Tu tamen ut simules teneras odisse Camoenas, 
Non odisse reor ; neque enim, pater, ire jubebas 
Qua via lata patet, qua pronior area lucri, 
Certaque condendi fulget spes aurea nummi : 
Nee rapis ad leges, male custoditaque gentis 
Jura nee insulsis damnas clamoribus aures ; 
Sed niagis excultam cupiens ditescere mentem, 
Me procul urbane strepitu, secessibus altis 
Abductum, Aoniae jucunda per otia ripte, 
Phoebteo lateri comitem sinis ire beatum. 
Officium chari taceo commune parentis ; 
Me poscunt majora : tuo, pater optime, sumptu 
Cum mihi Romulece patuit facundia hnguae, 
Et Latii veneres, et quae Jovis ora decebant 
Grandia magniloquis elata vocabula Grans, 
Addere suasisti quos jactat Gallia fiores ; 
Et quam degeneri novus Italus ore -loquelatn 
Fundit, barbaricos testatus voce tumultus ; 
QuEeque Pal^EStinus loquitur mystena vates. 
Denique quicquid habet coelum, subjectaque coelo 
Terra parens, terrasque et coelo mterfluus aer, 
Quicquid et unda te.git, pontique agitabile marmor, 
Per te nosse licet, per te, si nosse libebit : 
Dimotaque venit spectanda scientia nube, 
Nudaque conspicuos inclinat ad oscula vultus, 
Ni fuoisse velim, ni sit libasse molestum. 

I nunc, confer opes, quisquis malesanus avitas 
Austriaci gazas, Periianaque regua prjeoptas. 
Quce poLuit majora pater tribuisse, vel ipse 
Jupiter, excepto, donasset ut omnia, ccelo? 
Non potiora dedit, quamvis et tuta fuissent, 
Publica qui juvenl commisit lumina nato, 







fe 



SYL VARUM LIBER. 

Atque Hyperionios currus, et fnena diei, 
Et circuui undantem raduila luce tiaram. 
Ergo ego, jam doctse pars quamlibet iiua catervse, 
Victrices hederas inter laurosque sedebo ; 
Janique nee obscurus populo miscebor inerti, 
Vitabuntque oculos vestigia nostra profanos. 
Este procul vigiles curse, procul este querelae, 
Invidiaeque acies transverso tortilis hirquo, 
Saeva nee anguiferos extende, calumnia, rictus ; 
In me triste nihil, foedissima turl:)a, potestis, 
Nee vestri sum juris ego ; securaque tutus 
Pectora, vipereo gradiar subliuiis ab ictu. 

At tibi, chare pater, postquam uon sequa merenti 
Posse referre datur, nee dona rependere factis, 
Sit memorasse satis, repetitaque munera grate 
Percensere animo, fidasque reponere nieuti. 

Et vos, O nostri, juvenilia carmina, lusus, 
Si modo perpetuos sperare audebitis annos, 
Et domini superesse rogo, lucemque tueri. 
Nee spisso rapient oblivia nigra sub Oreo ; 
Forsitan has laudes, decantatumque parentis 
Nonien, ad exeraplum, sero servabitis ajvo. 




AD SALSIIvIvUM, POETAM ROMANUM, 
.EGROTANTEM. 

SCAZONTES. 

O MUSA, gressum quae volens trahis claudum, 
Vulcanioque tarda gaudes incessu, 
Nee sentis illud in loco minus gratum, 
Quam cum decentes flava Deiope suras 
Alternat aureum ante Junonis lectum ; 
Adesdum, et h^ec s'is verba pauca Salsillo 
Refer, Camcena nostra cui tantum est cordi, 
Quam que ille magnis praetulit immerito divis, 
Haec ergo alumnus ille Londini Milto, 
Diebus hisce qui suum linquens nidum, 
Polique tractum, pessimus ubi ventorum, 
Insanientis impotensque pulmonis, 
Pernix anhela sub Jove exercet flabra, 
Venit feraces Itali soli ad glebas. 
Visum superba cognitas urbes fama, 
Virosque, doctaeque indolem juventutis. 
Tibi optat idem hie fausta multa, Salsille, 
Habitumque fesso corpori penitus sanum ; 






I 



SYL I'ARUlU LIBER. 

Cui nunc profunda bills infestat renes, 
Prsecordiisque fixa damnosum spiral ; 
Nee id pepercit impia, quod tu Romano 
Tarn eultus ore Lesbium condis melos. 

O dulce divum munus, O Salus, Hebes 
Germana ! Tuque, Phoebe, morborum terror, 
Pythone caeso, sive tu magis Ptean 
Libenter audis, hie tuns sacerdos est. 
Querceta Fauui, vosque rore vinoso 
CoUes benigni, mitis Evaudri sedes, _ 
Siquid salubre vallibus frondet vestris, 
Levamen segro ferte certatim vati. 
vSic ille, charis redditus rursum Musis, 
Vicina dulci prata niulcebit cantu. 
Ipse inter atros emirabitur lucos 
Numa, ubi beatum degit otium eeternum, 
Suam reclinis semper ^geriam spectans. 
Tumidusque et ipse Tibris, bine delinitus, 
Spei favebit annuse colonorum ; 
Nee in sepulchris ibit obsessum reges 
Niniium sinistro laxus irruens loro : 
Sed frsena melius temperabit undarum, 
Adusque curvi salsa regna Portumni. 



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SYL VARUM LIBER. 



MANSUS. 



Joannes Baptista Mansus, Marchio Villensis, vir ingenii laude, 
turn literarum studio, nee non et bellica virtute, apud Italos clarus 
in primis est. Ad quern Torquati Tassi Dialogus extat de Amicitia 
scriptus; erat eniin Tassi amicissinius ; ab quo etiam inter Cam- 
paniEe principes celebratur, in illo poeiuate cui titulus Gerusaumm: 
Conquistata, lib. xx. 

Fra cavalier magnanimi, e cortesi, 
Rispleude il Manso — 

Isauthorem Neapoli commorantem suninia benevolentia prosecutus 
est, multaque ei detulit humanitatis officia. Ad huuc itaque hospes 
iUe, antequani ab ea urbe discederet, ut ue ingratum se ostenderel, 
hoc carmen luisit. 

HjEC quoque Manse, tuae meditantur carmina laudi 

Pierides, tibi, Mause, choro notissiine Phoebi ; 

Quandoquidein ille aliutn baud iequo est dignatus honore, 

Post Galli cineres, et Mecaeuatis Hetrusci 

Tu quoque, si nostrae tantum valet aura Camoenae, 

Victrices hederas inter laurosque sedebis. 

Te pridem magno felix concordia Tasso 

Junxit, et aeternis inscripsit notnina chartis : 

Mox tibi dulciloquum non inscia Musa Marinum 

Tradidit ; ille tuum dici se gaudet alumnum, 

Dum canit Assyrios divum prolixus amores ; 

Mollis et Ausonias stupefecit canuiue uymplias. 

Ille itidem moriens tibi soli debita vates. 

Ossa, tibi soli, supremaque vota reiiquit : 

Nee manes pietas tua chara fefellit amici ; 

Vidimus arridentem operoso ex sere poetam. 

Nee satis hoc visum est in utrumque, et nee pia cessant 

Officia in tumvilo ; cupis integros rapere Oreo, 

Qua potes, atque avidas Parcarum eludere leges : 

Aniborum genus, et varia sub sorte peractam 

Describis vitam, moresque, et dona Minervie ; 

.^mulus illius, Mycalen qui natus ad altam, 

Rettulit ^olii vitam facundus Homeri. 

Ergo ego te, Clius et magui nomine Phoebi, 

Manse pater, jubeo longum salvere per Eevum, 

Missus Hyperboreo juvenis peregrinus ab axe. 

Nee tu longinquam bonus aspernabare Musam, 

Quae nuper gelida \ax enutrita sub Arcto, 

Imprudens Italas ansa est volitare per urbes. 

Nos etiam in nostro modulantes flumine cygnos 

Credimus obscuras noctis sensisse per umbras, 

Qua Tliamesis late puris argenteus urnis 

Oceani glaucos perfundit gurgite crines : 

Quin et in has quondam pervenit Tityrus oras. 

Sed neque nos genus incultum, nee inutile Phoebo, 




tei 




SVLJ'AR UM LIBER. 



213 



IIP AAJ 



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m 



Qua plaga septeno muiidi sulcata Trioiie 
Brumalein patitur longa sub nocte Booten. 
Nos etiam colimus Phoebum, nos munera Phoebo, 
Flaveutes spicas, et lutea mala canistris, 
Halantemque crocum, perhibet nisi vana vetustas, 
Misimus, et lectas Druidum de gente choreas. 
Gens Druides antiqua, sacris operata deorum, 
Herouni laudes, imitaudaque gesta cauebant ; 
Hiuc quoties festo cingunt altaria cantu, 
Delo in herbosa, Graiae de more puellae, 
Carminibus Isetis memorant Corineida L,oxo, 
Fatidicamque Upin, cum flaviconia Hecaerge, 
Nuda Caledonio variatas pectora fuco. 

Fortunate senex, ergo quacunque per orbeni 
Torquati decus, et nomen celebrabitur ingeus, 
Claraque perpetui succrescet fama Marin i ; 
Tu quoque in ora frequens venies, plausumque virorum, 
Et parili carpes iter immortale volatu. 
Dicetur turn sponte tuos habitasse penates 
Cynthius, et famulas venisse ad limina Musas : 
At non sponte domum tamen idem, et regis adivit 
Rura Pheretiadae, coelo fugitivus Apollo ; 
Ille licet magnum Alciden susceperat hospes ; 
Tantum ubi clamosos placuit vitare bubulcos, 
Nobile mansueti cessit Chironis in antrum, 
Irriguos inter saltus, frondosaque tecta, 
Peneium prope rivum : ibi saepe sub ilice nigra, 
Ad citharte strepitum, blanda prece victus amici, 
Exilii duros lenibat voce labores. 
Tum neque ripa suo, barathro nee fixa sub imo 
Saxa stetere loco ; nutat Trachinia rupes, 
Nee sentit solitas, immania pondera, silvas ; 
Emotaeque suis properant de collibus orni, 
Mulcenturque novo maculosi carmine l5mces. 
Diis dilecte senex, te Jupiter aequus oportet 
Nascentem, et miti lustrarit lumine Phoebus, 
Atlantisque nepos ; neque enim, nisi charus ab ortu 
Diis superis, poterit magno favisse poetae. 
Hinc longaeva tibi lento sub flore senectus 
Vernat, et ^sonios lucratur vivida fusos ; 
Nondum deciduos servans tibi frontis honores, 
Ingeniumque %ngens, et adultum mentis acumen. 
O mihi si mea sors talem concedat amicum, 
Phoebaeos decorasse viros qui tam bene norit, 
Siquando indigenas revocabo in carmina reges, 
Arturumque etiam sub terris bella moventem ! 
Aut dicam invictae sociali foedere mensae 
Magnanimos heroas ; et, O modo spiritus adsit, 
Frangam Saxonicas Britonum sub Marte phalanges ! 
Tandem ubi non tacitte permensus tempora vitse. 




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SYL VARUM LIBER. 




Annorumque satur, cineri sua jura relinquam, 

Ille mihi lecto madidis astaret ocellis, 

Astanti sat erit si dicam, sim tibi cur;e ; 

Ille nieos artus, liventi morte solutos, 

Curaret parva compoiii molliter urna : 

Forsitan et nostro ducat de mannore vultus, 

Nectens aut Paphia myrti aut Parnasside lauri 

P'ronde comas, at ego secura pace quiescam. 

Turn quoque, si qua fides, si prsemia certa bonorum, 

Ipse ego caelicolum seniotus in sethera divuni, 

Quo labor et mens pura vehunt, atque ignea virtus, 

Secreti haic aliqua mundi de parte videbo, 

Quantum fata sinunt ; et tota mente serenum 

Ridens, purpureo sufFundar lumine vultus, 

^t simul sethereo plaudam mihi laetus Olympo. 



EPITAPHIUM DAMONIS. 



ARGUMENTUM. 



Thyrsis et Damon, 



, ejusdetn vicinice pastores, eadcin studia se- 
qimti, a pueritia amici erant, iit qui pluriimim. Tliyrsis auimi 
causa profectus peregre, de obitu Damonis nuncium acccpit. De- 
mum postea reversus. et rem ita esse comperto, sesuaraque solitudi- 
nem hoc carmine deplorat. Damonis autem sub persona hic 
intelligitur Carolus Deodatus, ex urbe Hetruria:, Luca paterno 
genere oriundus, ctetera Anglus ; ingenio, doctrina, clarissimisque 
ceteris virtutibus, duui viveret, juveuis egregius. 

HiMERiDES nymphae (nam vos et Daphnin et Hylan, 

Et plorata diu meministis fata Bionis) 

Dicite Sicelicum Thamesiua per oppida carmen : 

Quas miser efFudit voces, quae murmura Thyrsis, 

Et quibus assiduis exercuit antra querelis, 

Fluminaque, fontesque vagos, nemorumque recessus ; 

Dum sibi prcereptum queritur Damona, neque altam 

lyiictibus exemit noctem, loca sola pererrans. 

Et jam bis viridi surgebat culmus arista, 

Et totidem flavas numerabant horrea messes, 

Ex quo summa dies tulerat Damona sub umbras. 

Nee dum aderat Thyrsis; pastorem scilicet ilium 

Dulcis amor Musae Thusca retinebat in urbe : 

Ast ubi mens expleta douium, pecorisque relicti 

Cura vocat, simul assueta seditque sub ulmo, 

Tum vero amissum turn denique sentit amicum, 

Coepit et immensum sic exonerare dolorem. 

Ite domuni impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni, 
Hei mihi! quae terris, quae dicam numina c(flo. 




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tJ^i 



Postqiiam te immiti rapuerunt funere, Damon ! 
:\ \\ \ ki Siccine nos linquis, tua sic siue nomine virtus 

sV v\jl If Ibit, et obscuris numero sociabitur umbris ? 

,11 At non ille, animas \'irga qui dividit aurea, 

Ista velit, dignumque tui te ducat in agnien, 
Igna\'umque procul pecus arceatomne silentuni. 

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni. 
Quicquid erit, certe nisi me lupus ante videbit, 
Indeplorato non comminuere sepulchro, 
Constabitque tuus tibi honos, longumque vigebit 
Inter pastores. lUi tibi vota secundo 
Solvere post Daphnin, post Daphnin dicere laudes, 
Gaudebunt, dum rura Pales, dum Faunus amabit : 
Si quid id est, priscamque fidem coluisse, piumque, 
Palladiasque artes, sociuinque habuisse canorum. 

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni. 
Heec tibi certa manent, tibi erunt hsec preemia, Damon ; 
At mihi quid tandem fiet modo ? quis mihi fidus 
;> Hserebit lateri comes, ut tu SEepe solebas 

' / !(| Frigoribus duris, et per loca foeta pruinis, 

./ 1'' ill ill _ Aut rapido sub sole, siti morientibus herbis? 

' ' * Sive opus in magnos fuit eminus ire leones, 

Aut avidos terrere lupos prsesepibus altis ; 
Quis fando sopire diem, cantuque solebit ? 

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat agni. 
Pectora cui credam ? quis me lenire docebit 
Mordaces curas, quis longam fallere noctem 
Dulcibus alloquiis, grato cum sibilat igni 
Molle pyrum, et nucibus strepitat focus, et malus Auster 
Miscet cuncta foris, et desuper intonat ulnio ? 

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni. 
Aut aestate, dies medio dum vertitur axe. 
Cum Pan aesculea somnum capit abditus umbra, 
Bt repetunt sub aquis sibi nota sedilia nymphs, 
Pastoresque latent, stertit sub sepe coloniis ; 
Quis mihi blanditiasque tuas, quis turn mihi risus, 
Cecropiosque sales referet, cultosque lepores? 

Ite domum impasli, domino jam non vacat, agni. 
At jam solus agros, jam pascua solus oberro, 
Sicubi ramosse densantur vallibus umbrae ; 
Hie serum expecto ; supra caput imber et Burns 
Triste sonant, fractaeque agitata crepuscula sylvae. 

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni. 
Heu, quam culta mihi prius arva procacibus herbis 
Involvuntur, et ipsa situ seges alta fatiscit ! 
Innuba neglecto marcescit et iiva racemo, 
Nee myrteta j uvant ; ovium quoque teedet, at illae 
Moerent, inque suum convertunt ora magistrum. 
* . ,/ Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni. 

tjllifert Tityrus ad corylos vocat, Alphesiboeus ad ornos, 




J 





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m. 



Ad salices Aegoii, adflumina pulcher Amyntas, 
Hie gelidi'fontes, liic illita graniina musco, 
Hie Zephyri, hie plaeidas interstrepit arbutus uudas ; 
Ista canunt surdo, frutices ego nactus abibain. 

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni. 
Mopsus ad haec, nam me redeuntem forte notarat 
(Et callebat avium linguas, et sidera Mopsus) 
Thyrsi, quid hoc ? dixit : quae te eoquit improbabilis ? 
Aut te perdit amor, aut te male fascinat astruni ; 
(Saturni grave seepe fuit pastoribus astrum :) 
Intimaque obliquo figit praicordia plumbo. 

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vaeat, agni. 
Mirantur nymphaa ; et quid te, Thyrsi, futurum est ? 
Quid tibi vis? aiunt ; non ha;c solet esse juventce 
Nubila frons, oculique truees, vuUusque severi. 
Ilia choros, lususque leves, et semper amorem 
Jure petit : bis ille miser qui serus amavit. 

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vaeat, agni. 
Venit Hyas, Dryopeque, et filia Baucidis Aegle, 
Doeta modos, citharseque sciens, sed perdita fastu : 
Venit Idumanii Chloris vieina fluenti ; 
Nil me blanditi*, nil me solantia verba, 
Nil me, si quid adest, movet, aut spes ulla futuri. 

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni. 
Hei mihi, quam similes ludunt per prata juvenci, 
Omnes unanimi secum sibi lege sodales ! 
Nee magis hune alio quisquam seeernit amieum 
De grege ; sie densi veuiunt ad pabula thoes, 
Inque vieem hirsuti paribus junguntur onagri ; 
Lex eadem pelagi ; deserto in littore Proteus 
Agmina phoearum numerat, vilisque volucrum 
Passer habet semper quicum sit, et omnia cireum 
Farra libens volitet, sero sua teeta revisens ; 
Quern si sors letho objecit, seu milvus aduneo 
Fata tulit rostro, seu stravit arundine fossor, 
Protinus ille alium socio petit inde volatu. 
Nos durum genus, et diris exercita fatis 
Gens homines, aliena animis, et pectore diseors ; 
Vix sibi quisque parem de millibus invenit unum ; 
Aut si sors dederit tandem non aspera votis. 
Ilium inopina dies, qua non speraveris hora, 
Surripit, asteruum linquens in saeeula damnum. 

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vaeat. agni. 
Heu quis me ignotasi traxit vagus error in oras 
Ire per aereas rupes, Alpemque nivosam ! 
Eequid erat tanti Romam vidisse sepultam. 
(Quamvis ilia foret, qualem dum viseret dim, 
Tityrus ipse suas et oves et rura reliquit ;) 
I't te tam dulei possem caruisse sodale, 
Possem tot mana alt \, tot uiterponeie montes, 







SYLVARUM LIBER. 



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Tot svlvas, tot saxa tibi, fluviosque sonantes ! 
Ah ! certe extremum licuisset tangere dextram, 
Et bene compositos placide morientis ocellos, 
Et dixisse, " Vale, iiostri memor ibis ad astra." 

Ite donium impasti, doniino jam non vacat, agni. 
Quamquam etiam vestri nunquatn memmisse pigebit, 
Pastores Thusci, Musis operata juventus : 
Hie Charis, atque Lepos ; et Thuscus tu quoque Damon, 
Antiqua genus unde petis Lucumonis ab urbe. 
O ego quantus erani, gelidi cum stratus ad Arm 
Murmura, populeumque nemus, qua mollior herba. 
Carpere nunc violas, nunc summas carpere myrtos, 
Et potui Lycidae eertautem audire Menalcam ! 
Ipse etiam tentare ausus sum ; nee puto multum 
Displicui, nam sunt et apud me munera vestra, 
FiscellEe, calathique, et cerea vincla cicutae : 
Quin et nostra suas docuerunt nomina fagos 
Et Datis, et Francinus erant et vocibus ambo 
Et studiis noti, Lvdorum sanguinis ambo. 

Ite domum imp'asti, domino jam non vacat, agni. 
Hajc mihi turn laeto dictabat roscida luna, 
Dum solus teneros claudebam cratibus haedos. 
Ah quoties dixi, cum te cinis ater habebat, 
Nunc canit, aut lepori nunc tendit retia Damon, 
Vimina nunc texit, varios sibi quod sit m usus ! 
Et quEe tum facili sperabam mente futura 
Arripui voto levis, et praesentia finxi ; 
Heus bone numquid agis ? nisi te quid forte retardat : 
Imus ' et arguta paulum recubamus in umbra, 
Aut ad aquas Colni, aut ubi jugera Cassibelauni ? 
Tu mihi percurres medicos, tua gramma, succos 
Helleborumque, humilesque crocos, folmmque hyacmthi, 
Ouasque habet ista palus herbas, artesque medentum. 
\h pereant herbae, pereant artesque medentum, 
Gramina, postquam ipsi nil profecere magistro ! 
Ipse etiam, nam nescio quid mihi grande sonabat 
Fistula, ab undecima jam lux est altera nocte, 
Et tum forte novis admoram labra cicutis, 
Dissiluere tamen rupta compage, nee ultra 
Ferre graves potuere sonos : dubito quoque ne sim 
Turgidulus, tamen et referam ; vos cedite, sylvae. _ 
Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agm. 
Ipse ego Dardanias Rutupina per asquora puppes 
Dicam, et Pandrasidos regnum vetus Inogemae, 
Brennumque Ar\nragumque duces, priscumque Belmum, 
Et tandem Armoricos Britonum sub lege colonos ; 
Tum gravidam Arturo, fatali fraude, logernen, 
Mendaces vultus, assumptaque Gorlois arma, 
Merlini dolus. O mihi tum si vita supersit, 
Tu procul annosa pendebi';, fi«tula, pmu, 






_jii^:i---i:_i!iiiii4j;-iG 



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HI 






rn 





Multum oblita mini ; aut pati-iis niutata Camoeiiis 
Brittonicum strides, quid enim ? omnia non licet uiii, 
Non sperasse uni licet omnia, mi satis ampla 
Merces, et mihi grande decus (sim ignotus in aevum 
Turn licet, externo penitusque inglorius orbi) 
Si me flava comas legat Usa, et potor Alauni, 
Vorticibusque frequens Abra, et nemus omne Treantse, 
Et Thamesis mens ante omnes, et fusca metallis 
Tamara, et extremis me discant Orcades undis. 

Ite domum impasti, domino jam non vacat, agni. 
Ha^c tibi servabam lenta sub cortice lauri, 
Haec, et plura simul ; tum quae mihi pocula Mansus, 
Mansus, Chalcidicas non ultima gloria ripse, 
Bina dedit, mirum artis opus, mirandus et ipse, 
Et circum geniino Ccelaverat argumento : 
In medio rubri maris unda, et odoriferum ver, 
Littora louga Arabum, et sudantes balsama sylvae, 
Has inter Phoenix, divina avis, tmica terris, 
Cseruleum fulgens diversicoloribus alis, 
Auroram vitreis surgentem respicit undis ; 
Parte alia polus omnipotens, et magnus Olympus ; 
Quis putet ? hie quoque Amor, pictseque in nube pharetrae, 
Arma corusca faces, et spicula tin eta pyropo ; 
Nee tenues animas, pectusque ignobile vulgi 
Hinc ferit ; at circum flammantia lumina torquens 
Semper in erectum spargit sua tela per orbes 
Impiger, et pronos nunquam collimat ad ictus 
Hinc mentes ardere sacree, formseque deorum. 

Tu quoque in his, nee me fallit spes lubrica, Damon 
Tu quoque in his certe es, nam quo tua dulcis abiret 
Sanctaque simplicitas, nam quo tua Candida virtus ? 
Nee te Leth^o fas qusesivisse sub orco. 
Nee tibi conveniunt lacrymae nee flebimus ultra, 
Ite procul lacrymse ; purum colit a^thera Damon, 
^thera purus habet, pluviiim pede reppulit arcum ; 
Heroumque animas inter, divosque perennes, 
^thereos haurit latices, et gaudia potat 
Ore sacro. Quin tu, coeli post jura recepta, 
Dexter ades, placidusque fave quicunque vocaris, 
Seu tu noster eris Damon, sive aequior audis 
Diodatus, quo te divino nomine cuncti 
Coelicolse norint, sylvisque vocabere Damon. 
Quod tibi purpureus pudor, et sine labe juventus 
Grata fuit, quod nulla tori libata voluptas. 
En etiam tibi virginei servantur honores ; 
Ipse caput nitidum cinctus rutilante corona, 
Laetaque frondentis gestans umbracula palmae, 
-Sternum perages immortales hymenaeos ; 
Cantus ubi, choreisque furit lyra mista beatis, 
Festa Sionaeo bacchantur et Orgia thyrso. 





^>*^ 



SYL VARUM LIBER. 219 



Jan. 23, 1646. 

AD JOANNEM ROUSIUM OXONIENSIS ACADEMIi^ 
BIBLIOTHECARIUM. 

De libro Poematum ainisso, queni ille sibi deuuo initti postulabat, 
ut cum aliis nostris in Bibliotheca publica reponeret, Ode. 

STROPHE I. 

GemellE cultu simplici gaudens liber, 

Fronde licet gemina, 

Munditieque nitens non operosa ; 

Quem nianus attulit 

Juvenilis olim, 

Sedula tamen hand nimii poetas ; 

Dum vagus Ausonias nunc per umbras, 

Nunc Britannica per \nreta lusit, : 

Insons populi, barbitoque devius '',■ 

Indulsit patrio, niox itidem pectine Daunio ''■■ 

Longinquum intonuit melos ii 

Vicinis, et liumum vix tetigit pede : 

ANTISTROPHE. / , 

% 

Quis te, parve liber, quis te fratribus '/// 

Subduxit reliquis dolo ? /If 

Cum tu missus ab urbe, /, 

Docto jugiter obsecrante amico, 

lUustre tendebas iter 

Thamesis ad incunabula 

Caerulei patris. 

Pontes ubi limpidi 

Aonidum, thj^asusque sacer, 

Orbi notus per immensos 

Temporum lapsus redeunte coelo, 

Celeberque futurus in sevum ? 

STROPHE II. 

Modo quis deus, aut editus deo, 
Pristinam gentis miseratus indolem, 
(Si satis noxas luinius priores, 
Mollique luxu degener otium ) 
Tollat nefandos civium tumultus, 
Almaque revocet studia sanctus, 
Et relegatas sine sede Musas 
Jam pene totis finibus Angligenum ; 







SYL VARUM LIBER. 

Itnmundasque volucres, 

Unguibus imminentes, 

Figat Apollinea pharetra, 

Phineamque abigat pestem procul amne Pegaseo ? 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Quin tu, libelle, nuntii licet mala 

Fide, vel oscitantia, 

Semel erraveris agmine fratrum, 

Seu quis te teneat specus, 

Seu qua te latebra, forsan unde vili 

Callo tereris institoris insulsi, 

Laetare Iblix : en iterum tibi 

Spes nova fulget, posse profundam 

Fugere I^ethen, vehiqtie superam 

In Jovis aulam, remige penna : 



STROPHE III. 



!it. 



M. 



^-,-..^„,=^ 



Nam te Roiisius sui 

Optat peculi, numeroque justo 

Sibi poUicitum queritur abesse ; 

Rogatque venias ille, cujus inclj'^ta 

Sunt data virum monumenta curtS : 

Teque adytis etiam sacris : 

Voluit reponi, quibus et ipse prsesidet 

^ternoruni operum custos fideiis : 

Quaestorque gazae laobilioris, 

Quam cui praefuit Ion, 

Clarus Frechtheides, 

Opulenta dei per templa parentis, 

Fulvosque tripodas, donaque Delphica, 

Ion Actsea genitus Creusa. 

ANTISTROPHE. 

Ergo tu visere lucos 

Musanim ibis amoeuos ; 

Diamque Phcebi rursus ibis in domum, 

Oxonia quam valle colit, 

Delo posthabita, 

Bifidoque Parnassi jiigo : 

Ibis honestus, 

Postquam egregiam tu quoque sortem 

Nactus abis, dextri prece sollicitatus amici 

Illic legeris inter alta nomina 

Authorum, Graise simul et Latinae 

Antiqua gentis lumina, et veruni decus. 








%^^:_:^ 



"S^s^fe^Ji'*': 




SYLVARUJI LIBER. 



EPODOS. 




Vos tandem, baud vacui mei labores, 

Quicquid hoc sterile fudit ingenium, 

Jain sero placidam sperare jubeo 

Perfunctam invidia requiem, sedesque beatas, 

Quas bonus Hermes, 

Et tutela dabit solers Roiisi : 

Quo neque lingua procax vulgi penetrabit, atque onge 

Turba legentum prava facesset : 

At ultimi nepotes, 

Et cordatior setas, 

Judicia rebus aequiora forsitan 

Adhibebit, integro sinu. 

Tum, livore sepulto, 

Si quid meremur sana posteritas sciet, 

Roiisio favente. 



Ode tribus constat Strophis, totidemque Antistrophis, 
una demum Epodo clausis ; quas tametsi omnes nee ver- 
suum numero nee certis ubique colis exacte respondeant, 
ita tamen secuimus, commode legend! potius, quam ad 
antiquos concinendi modos rationem spectantes. Alio- 
quin hoc genus rectius fortasse dici monostrophicum 
debuerat. Metra partim sunt xard dxedi v, partim cxTroXe- 
\sv/iisvcx. Phaleucia quae sunt, Spondaeum tertio loco bis 
admittunt, quod idem in secundo loco Catullus ad libitum 
fecit. 






f-'Y)^' 



t4 



family" poct0. 



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1. Lucile. By Owen Meredith. 

2. Burns's Complete Poetical Works. 

3. George Eliot's Complete Poetical Works. 

4. Milton's Complete Poetical Works. 



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